


Paladin

by RoostersCromedCDF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Aramis and a boy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag s02 e04 Emilie, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild torture, Savoy-related Issues, Whump!Aramis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27508414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoostersCromedCDF/pseuds/RoostersCromedCDF
Summary: Emilie is gone, and Aramis, driven by guilt, stays to help the villagers reclaim their lives. Yet the villagers have not forgiven his part in the affair and receive him with contempt and scorn. When Aramis decides to leave and return to Paris, he stumbles upon a small boy who is searching for his mother. Distracted by the possibility of finally being able to help someone, Aramis fails to notice the real threat and pays a bitter price.
Comments: 47
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeadshotMusketeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadshotMusketeer/gifts).



> Many thanks to barbara69, who had always a sympathetic ear for my affairs at any time either day or night.
> 
> I owe my amazing beta Deadshot Musketeer special thanks for endlessly correcting my grammar mistakes (“This is the easy part”), improving my plot (“This is the funny part”) and for getting my writing straight to the point (“This is the hard part”).
> 
> Deadshot Musketeer is K.Pimpinella, author of the soon to be released _Nexus Point_ , by Friesen Press.
> 
>   
> ***
> 
> The story is completed, I will regularly post a chapter every 3rd day.
> 
> All remaining mistakes, typos or holes in the plot are solely my responsibility.
> 
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Don’t you dare, you damned musketeer.” The woman snatched the bundle of kitchen supplies from Aramis’ hand and threw it into the back of her small cart. Like so many other camp folk, she was packing her belongings as quickly as possible.

The woman’s hateful gaze bore through Aramis. His throat tightened. “Please excuse me, Madame. It lay on the ground and I only wanted to help.”

"Help? Really?” She turned to an elderly man packing his cart a few feet away. “Mon dieu, do you hear this? This Musketeer has ruined our lives by sending Emilie away, and now he wants to help?” She turned back to Aramis and spat at his feet. “You should have helped by leaving well enough alone. Emilie belongs with us and now she’s gone, no thanks to you and your friends.”

Aramis stepped involuntarily back with palms bared, almost bumping into his stallion, Solitario. Athos had indicated to Aramis that his thoughts were still too preoccupied by the events of the past few days. So Athos had convinced him to stay and help these people while he, Porthos and d'Artagnan returned to the garrison. Aramis had hoped this might help ease his conscience and to get his head on straight.

“I'm sorry if you feel that way,” he said to the woman. “But I was just trying to lay bare the truth. No one deserves to be deceived like that. You followed a delusion of truth that would have never led you to freedom...”

“Freedom?” the elderly man interrupted angrily. “And you think your truth has set us free? Look around. Your truth has robbed us of everything we believed in. Your truth has sent us into an uncertain future. Your truth has made us lose everything we cared about, our home, our community, our faith.”

The man's harsh words pierced Aramis’ heart. He was hurt by the fact that he’d robbed these people of their life, but the foundation of this community had been built on lies and deception. These people had been seduced and abused, used as a means to an end for a greedy old woman.

Aramis' gaze whipped between the man and the woman. “Bearing the truth is never easy. But this one truth I can tell you with certainty. If you had gone with Emilie against Spain, you would have lost the most precious thing you have, your life. Now you have the opportunity to live this life and build a new, true community.”

“Don't pretend to understand the nature of community,” the woman said in a condescending tone. “How could you? What does a musketeer know of true friendship and brotherhood? A soldier only knows one business, death.” The woman looked at him disdainfully. “Anyway, since when are Spanish bastards admitted to the Musketeer regiment? Hm?”

 _Not this again_. Aramis was tired of having to point out that he was French and loyal to his country. Yet, in times like these, people seemed to trust their eyes rather than his words.

“I assure you, I am neither a bastard nor a Spaniard.”

Another man emerged from the small crowd beside the cart, staring at Aramis with hateful eyes. “I say no way he is a true Musketeer. I'm sure he wangled his commission the same way he gained Emilie's trust. Raymond was right from the beginning. He looks like a Spanish spy and he came to destroy Emilie. Emilie has always trusted Raymond's judgment, but this snake has fooled both…”

A murmur went through the small crowd cutting off the newcomer’s voice. 

Nodding with assent, the crowd formed a circle around Aramis. Instantly, Aramis' breath accelerated and his heartbeat quickened, snapping him to battle readiness. He straightened, but refrained from reaching for his rapier. “I’m Aramis from the King's Musketeers, and an attack on me is an attack on the King. Trust me when I tell you the King is less forgiving than I am. So I advise you to do as Emilie told you. Gather your belongings and set out for a new life.”

His words didn't have the desired effect. People continued to encroach and the situation took on threatening dimensions, and the desperate cries of Emilie suddenly seemed like a promise in his head.

 _You liar, traitor! Blood will be shed for this- your blood_. 

Aramis’ hand slid toward his rapier when a chicken emerged from under a cart and ran, clucking and fluttering between Solitario’s legs. The stallion’s strong backside came threateningly close to the crowd, forcing the people to retreat.

“Woah!” Aramis parried the stallion to stop his wild circling. When the horse calmed, Aramis looked around and noticed the crowd had now completely dispersed _._

A small boy rushed at Solitario from behind the cart, just like the chicken before. Aramis managed to catch the boy in the nick of time before he collided with the stallion. “Watch out, young man!”

Dark brown eyes with formidable lashes stared at him from under a hazel-brow mop of hair.

“What exactly are you up to?” Aramis asked, letting go of the child and stepping back.

Knitting his brow, the boy bit his lower lip. His eyes blinked and then he seemed to have made a decision. “Did you see a chicken pass this way, _Monsieur_?”

“If I saw a chicken?” Aramis grinned involuntarily. “You mean a little white chicken?“

“Yes.”

“With a pale red comb?”

“Yes, yes!” The boy's eyes widened expectantly.

“With black flecks on its wings? This chicken?”

“Yes, exactly. That's Agatha!” The child's voice was a pitch higher and his nodding became more energetic.

“Ohhh, I'm sorry, but I didn't see that chicken,” Aramis said, struggling to hide his smile.

The boy slumped down and opened his mouth like a fish stranded on the shore. Disappointment was written all over his face and even his restless eyes stopped for a second.

Aramis laughed and patted the child gently on its shoulder. “Fooled you,” he said, and winked to show the boy that he was joking.

“You're not very funny, Sir.” The child's nose wrinkled sullenly, but a moment later, he grinned and his eyes searched the camp again.

“So you are looking for your chicken? Agatha?” Aramis probed.

“Yes...no... but, yes...well, actually I'm looking for Maman,” the child bubbled out. “We were at the assembly and saw Emilie and the musketeers and everyone was so excited. And then suddenly she was gone, that is Agatha, not Maman. But she, I mean Maman, not Agatha, told me to go and find Agatha and come back to the tent quickly. But I couldn't find that stupid chicken and suddenly maman was gone too. And then I saw Agatha fluttering, and there were so many people and...”

“Wait, you have to draw some breath in between,” Aramis said with a smile. “So you're looking for your mother?” 

“Yes, I told you. She is no longer at the tent and Agatha has escaped again and all the people here are like ants. You know, the little red ones that always build their hill between the trees and when you walk in they spray this stuff on your feet and then it burns all day long and...”

Aramis tilted his head and crossed his arms, mimicking the gesture of his old tutor well. The boy abruptly stopped speaking and his face blushed. Aramis couldn't remember how many times his tutor, Monsieur Duvall, had interrupted him with this same gesture during his own rambling tales. To this day, Aramis was grateful to Monsieur Duvall. More than once his old tutor’s knowledge had saved his life.

“Well, your mother then,” Aramis summarized with an amused smile. “My name is Aramis, what's your name, young man?”

“Félicien. And what is your horse’s name?”

Aramis took the reins tighter for safety. “His name is Solitario, and you must be careful, because he can be very dangerous if he wants to.”

“Dangerous?” Félicien's eyes widened, and he didn't move an inch. “What do you mean, dangerous?”

“When we first met, Solitario was racing across the largest market of Paris, running over everything in his path. I had only a second to make a decision, and I decided to stand my ground like the musketeer I am and not give way to the beast. There I stood, in the middle of the square, utterly fearless.”

 _Well, at least in this version of the story_ , Aramis thought. He had actually found Solitario three months after Savoy. Aramis had been completely absent-minded, trapped in blurred images of white and bloody red when the horse did indeed careen through the market. But that part of the story wasn’t for a child.

“He very nearly killed me,” continued Aramis. “But finally I managed to grab the reins and calm him down so he wouldn't trample me or someone else to death.” 

“And then you tamed him,” Félicien concluded with admiration in his voice.

“Yes, I did. It didn’t take long for Solitario to become a magnificent member of the musketeer regiment.” 

_Unlike myself_.

Aramis reflected back to that fateful day of meeting Solitario, when Savoy still plagued his mind with nightmares. Incapable of rejoining his fellow musketeers, Aramis remembered drawing strength from Solitario, from their new found kinship, and not much later, he rejoined the ranks along with his brothers.

“Solitario, that name sounds pretty Spanish...” said Félicien.

“Well, because it is Spanish. Solitario means 'the lonely one' and he's a genuine Berber stallion. _Ves, pues sí hay cosas buenas que vienen de Espana_ … I just said… good things do come from Spain.”

Félicien jumped back with wide eyes. “ _You_ are the dangerous one! You are a Spaniard,” the boy stammered, as if he’d seen the devil himself.

Aramis looked Félicien in his eyes. “No, my friend, I am French through and through, and a King’s Musketeer with all my heart.” Aramis pointed at his pauldron then he placed his fist on his chest and bowed slightly, giving the boy the musketeers’ salute. “But my grandmother was from Spain, and from her I learned this language from childhood.”

Félicien relaxed.

“And somewhere here must be your mother?” Aramis drew the child's attention back to his original problem and scanned the area.

“Yes.” Félicien took a position directly in front of the stallion's chest, cuddling it tightly, his small arms embracing the mighty neck on both sides.

Aramis pulled the boy out from under the horse and lifted him into the saddle. Félicien tensed, but when Solitario remained calm, he relaxed and began to search the camp for his mother from this wonderfully elevated position.

Aramis was about to place the boy into a better position in the saddle, when his eyes caught on a face between the tents. 

Raymond. Emilie's confidant, and her mother's attacker. 

Raymond stood motionless with a face distorted with hate. As their eyes met, Raymond sneered and made a slitting motion across his throat. 

“Aramis, I asked if we can go now.” Félicien's voice penetrated Aramis' mind and the marksman looked up.

Despite Raymond’s ire, Aramis determined to go through with helping these villagers. He needed solace, and helping them was the only way he knew how. 

He inhaled and turned his full attention back to Félicien. “Well then, my young friend, let's find your mother.”

Félicien's face was beaming with pride and Aramis moved forward with Solitario. 

*** 

“Satan's language. I knew this musketeer wasn’t what he claimed to be,” hissed Raymond, as he stood between the tents listening to the Spanish language drip from Aramis’s tongue.

Hot rage scorched through his veins. If it weren’t for Félicien standing alongside this Spanish spy, Raymond would show this false musketeer what pain really meant. But the boy looked so much like his father. Saniel. An old friend. And Raymond could not break the boys’ heart. Melancholy days of long ago crept into his mind whenever he saw the young boy. 

_He could have been my son..._

But eight years ago Félicien’s mother had chosen Saniel.

Since then, life had never held much in store for Raymond, except for disappointments and tribulations. But his fate had taken a turn when he had met Emilie. This graceful woman, so fragile and yet so full of strength, had mesmerized him from the very first moment they met, and she had become the second great love of his life. Of course, he would never be worthy of a prophetess like Emilie, but to be near her, to enjoy her trust and to experience the work of God had been more than he had ever expected. For the first time in his life, Raymond had found a deep confidence that life could offer him more.

“And this Spanish spy has destroyed everything,” Raymond muttered full of hate. 

There was nothing left in the village Emilie had created but broken dreams and gazing at a cold fire pit, bitterness welled up in him like hot flames. The fire of their fellowship was extinguished and those around him were in desperate need of the guidance this musketeer took from them. They needed a new hope.

They needed someone to guide them.

_But who? Who could take on this heavy burden?_

A divine revelation poured over Raymond like golden heat, making his body and mind glow, and he sensed God’s purpose to reignite the fire. He would now be the new chosen one. The one to raise the community like a phoenix from the ashes. This was his real calling, the fulfilment of his destiny. To take up the sceptre after Emilie was gone and take responsibility for these lost souls. It was his sacred duty to protect them from the claws of the Spanish tyrant King and his devilish henchman. To save France.

_And I will start with the one called Aramis…_

When Aramis glanced at him, Raymond made a slitting motion across his neck. Aramis’s expression froze, his eyes narrowed, and Raymond couldn’t help but smirk before dashing away between the tents. He knew exactly what he would do next, what God was telling him to do. His life was renewed because now he had a mission to fulfill.


	2. Chapter 02

Aurélie sighed, and slicked back a stubborn strand of her hair. “Why do I feel like I’m always packing...” 

Standing in the middle of the tent, she didn't know where to start with packing Félicien’s and her stuff. Her belongings had been few and scarce, but in the last few months more had been amassed. The community had become a small, independent cosmos, and people had shared and traded in crafts and services. There had always been a great demand for Aurélie's herbalist knowledge, and despite the presence of God in the camp, people had not been spared from sickness and pain.

“What am I going to do with you?” Aurélie asked the sturdy wooden table on which a man could easily lie. All her household goods had found their place on it, and in between the hodgepodge, Félicien had added his childhood treasures.

Reaching for an iron pan, Aurélie heard Félicien call out. She shook her head and looked heavenward. _I pray the boy has found the chicken._

“Maman, Maman... come quickly!”

“Agata better be with you...” she said when she stepped outside the tent. She stopped, her mouth hung open upon seeing Félicien on horseback, accompanied by a fully armed musketeer.

“Féli, what have you done now?” Aurélie was aware of the crucial role the King’s Guard played in Emilie’s demise, particularly this musketeer. The effects of his actions were felt everywhere in camp, and she certainly had no desire to hear of further bad revelations. _Musketeers always bring trouble..._

“All is well, Madame, I assure you.” The musketeer said bowing slightly. “I am Aramis of the King's Musketeers, at your service. I picked up the boy when he chased your chicken a bit too blindly. Given the circumstances, I thought it best to return him to his mother for now. I think Agata will be wise enough to find her own way back to where she is fed.”

Aurélie's eyes involuntarily caught on his pauldron. She hadn't seen the royal insignia up this close for a long time and a touch of wistfulness crept into her heart. Aurélie was not sure how to assess the situation, but Félicien was beaming and the musketeer didn't appear threateningly either. “I expected all the musketeers to be on the road back to Paris by now.”

“There are indeed many roads to travel, but I took the one which leads to you,” Aramis replied with a wink. “And to your son, of course.”

The unexpected answer warmed Aurélie's cheeks and a smile flitted across her lips. “Then I owe you thanks for your services, Monsieur Aramis. I hope Féli didn't cause you too much trouble, he can be a bit of a handful sometimes.” 

“Maman…”

“No, Madam,” said Aramis. “We discussed horse-training. It's my duty as a King's Musketeer to serve the people of his country as well as to help them. You're welcome.”

It didn't escape Aurélie's notice how gently Aramis lifted Félicien off the horse and put him on the ground. She beckoned Féli to come over and held him close. Her son's arms wrapped around her.

“Well, thanks again. I'm sure you've had a difficult day and…” she said to Aramis.

“Oh, I had a lousy day, but your smile already compensated for it.”

_Is he really charming me?_ Feeling heat warming her cheeks, Aurélie felt the urgent need to examine her fingernails. _Dear Lord, what do they look like?_ She thought, as she hid her hands behind her back.

“Well, if it were always that easy...” Aurélie stroked over her worn out dress and the disheveled braid.

“I don't need easy, I just need possible.” Aramis chinned to the entrance of the tent. “If it's possible, I would be honored to help you, I just...“

“Yes, I could indeed use some help,” replied Aurélie. “At the other end of the camp lives my friend Sara, she has a second handcart she's willing to lend me. It would be wonderful if you fetch it, so I can keep packing in the meantime.”

“Of course. With pleasure,” said Aramis. “I'll take care of Solitario first and then I'll be on my way...“

“No, Maman, I can take care of the horse, I can do it.” Félicien jumped up and down beside Aurélie. “Please, I can do it!”

Aramis raised his eyebrow at Aurélie as if asking for permission to leave the horse in Félicien’s care.

Aurélie hesitated. But to her amazement a smile appeared on her lips. “All right, Félicien and I will take care of the horse and you get us the cart.”

Aramis pressed the reins into Félicien's hand and squatted down next to him. Aurélie didn’t understand what the musketeer told the boy, but the joy her son radiated spoke volumes. Seeing Félicien hanging on the man's words with vivid enthusiasm, she felt a small sting in her heart and as always, it was sharp and painful. _How sadly his father is missed every day..._

Over the boy's head her eyes met with Aramis’ and locked for a moment. Aramis nodded before he headed for the end of the camp to fetch the cart.

Aurélie glanced after Aramis before she had to pull Félicien away from the horse to prevent his little toes from getting under its big hooves. “Let's give the horse hay from the goats. But be careful, that's a war horse, not one of your grandfather's old nags.“

With straight back and his head held high, Félicien led the sturdy animal to the back of the tent. Pride washed over Aurélie and stirred up the memory of Saniel. _You're becoming more and more like your father…_

While Félicien fiddled around with the saddle, Aurélie went to fetch the hay when a harsh voice startled her.

“You let the devil into your life.“

“By all saints, Raymond, you scared me,” Aurélie gasped, turning to the man. 

Anger replaced the lightness of her thoughts. Though Raymond was an old friend from childhood, after Saniel's death they had lost sight of each other. Coincidence had brought them back together here at Emilie's camp, but she felt uncomfortable with this man, always had.

Raymond pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and took a step closer. “You have no idea who you're getting involved with. He disguises his detestable intentions with a handsome face and Emilie has already fallen for it. But I won't let Aramis succeed in destroying your life, too. Don't worry, I'll protect you from that Spanish spy.” 

“What are you talking about? Aramis isn’t a Spanish spy, he’s a King’s Musketeer and all he did was...“

“You think he's a true musketeer because he wears that ridiculous pauldron? Because you know so much about musketeers, don't you? Remember, they promise heaven, but deliver nothing but hell.“

Aurélie put her hands on her hips for she didn't like the strange glint in Raymond's eyes. “Watch your mouth, you're crossing the line. He was nothing but polite and said that...“

“Oh, yes, what he said was most enlightening.” Fixing Aurélie with arched eyebrows, Raymond took another step towards her. “Hearing him speak Spanish is all the proof I need. A few hours ago I had believed Josette was to blame for the failure of our divine mission, but now it is clear that it has been this fake musketeer. Aramis has come back to complete his devilish work. To destroy our French spirit and rob us of our last bit of confidence. You heard it too, Félicien, didn't you?”

Félicien flinched, his eyes wide “Yes... no... I... Maman...“

“Spit it out, boy, and don't you dare lie,” rasped Raymond.

Raymond's features hardened with every word and Aurélie saw the pulsing veins on his temple as he stepped closer. 

He pointed straight at Félicien. “You talked to that Spanish bastard. You collaborated with the enemy of France.”

Swallowing, Aurélie's palms sweated. She pulled Félicien toward her and backed away, bumping into Solitario's massive body. “Raymond, stop it, he's a child.” Aurélie lifted her chin and stared at Raymond. “There's no enemy for us any more, no war to go to and it's time you face that. Go home if you still have a home.“

Raymond's eyes turned into slits. “Oh, I'd have a home if you hadn't made the wrong decision back then. You knew I loved you, but you chose Saniel. God corrected that mistake and Saniel is dead...“

“How dare you, Raymond! How dare you say such a thing in front of Félicien? The only fault is that Féli must grow up without a father. Saniel would turn in his grave if he knew all the nonsense his best friend is now spouting. What's wrong with you?“

Raymond planted himself in front of Aurélie, then grabbed Aurélie by her shoulders with both hands, and pulled her close. 

Aurélie flinched and stiffened.

“Aurélie, can't you see it? God's providence ensured that we met again here, where the way for our new love is paved. It is my destiny to take Emilie's place, to complete her work and for that I need you by my side. You and I are going to reign like royalty by the grace of God and nip any Spanish threat to our country in the bud. Oh Aurélie...I have waited so long for this moment...I have always loved you...“

Raymond leaned in for a kiss. 

Aurélie’s arms shot up, pushing Raymond away as hard as possible. “Whatever it is you think you need to do, I'm certainly not at your disposal! Go! Go away and leave us alone!” Aurélie's voice trembled, as she stood her ground. 

Raymond raised his hand, but before he could strike, Félicien threw himself between them.

“No! Stop it! Leave my Maman alone…” The boy pounded wildly on Raymond with his small fists.

“You little nipper!” Raymond knocked the boy aside. “You're not going to get between me and your mother…”

Aurélie gasped as Félicien hit the ground at full force. The boy moaned, but jumped up again and attacked Raymond with an angry, distorted face.

“No! Féli! Stop it! Run away, hurry!” Aurélie's heart raced, she could hear it pounding in her ears. Fear for Félicien drove all her other worries away as she clenched her fists and stepped between Raymond and her child.

Raymond sneered, a menacing glint flashing in his eyes. Aurélie realized that this man was more dangerous than she had thought, and although she didn't understand the driving force behind his behavior, she understood what he was capable of. With her outstretched hands pushing against his chest, she turned to Félicien.

“Run!” she screamed, to which the boy fled.

Raymond's strong hands turned her back to face him, and this time she couldn't wriggle out of his tight grip. Clasped by one of his arms as if wedged in a vice, the madman grabbed her breast and squeezed. Gasping, Aurélie lashed out, but Raymond pressed his lips against hers.

“No! Stop it!” she cried out, but her words were muffled by his greedy mouth.

“Let go of her!”

Raymond spun around. 

Aramis stood between the tents, a small handcart beside him. Even though the musketeer spoke low, the deadly undertone in his voice was all the louder. And the expression on his face didn’t bode well, telling Aurélie that Aramis would stop at nothing.

Unsheathing his dagger, Raymond stepped back and pulled Aurélie in front of him, using her as a living shield. “You Spanish bastard. I'll teach you a lesson about messing with the wrong one...“

Aurélie couldn't say how Aramis had managed to draw his weapon so quickly, but he was aiming his pistol at Raymond. 

“Coming with a dagger to a gunfight requires an incredible level of ignorance.” Aramis’ steely glance belied his mocking tone.

“What are you going to do? Shoot through her to hit me? Huh?“

Raymond's grip on Aurélie tightened and she gasped. Terror rose up in her, and through everything she yearned to fight back. She caught Aramis' eyes and the musketeer shook his head lightly. Aurélie understood.

Aramis clicked his tongue. “There are two kinds of moments in life that impact our souls forever. Moments when you make the right decision and moments when you make the wrong one. If you don’t let go of her, you won’t live long enough to have any moment.“

“Wrong! You forgot the third option. If you don't drop your pistol right now, _she_ won't live long enough to have any moment.”

Feeling cold steel at her throat, Aurélie's mind refused to believe what her sense of touch was telling her. “Raymond, what are you doing?”

“If you don't want to orphan Félicien, keep your mouth shut!” shouted Raymond. “Those who are not with me are against me.”

Raymond turned his dagger, and the sharp blade felt like a thin, taut wire drawing tighter and tighter across Aurélie’s neck. _This is what death feels like!_ Aurélie’s heart raced and she shivered in the summer heat of the afternoon.

Aramis stood frozen, and seconds stretched into eternity. Finally, the musketeer laid his pistol down, and stepped forward. “What gave you the absurd idea that anyone could ever be with you? Since I’ve known you this short while, you've hidden behind a woman's skirt. First Emilie's and now hers.”

“You rotten bastard! I should have killed you when you arrived... and now put down the other damn pistol or...”

The pressure on Aurélie's throat turned into a burning sensation and she gasped for breath. “Aramis!”

Aramis placed the second pistol on the ground and took another step forward, never taking his eyes off Raymond. “You're a coward... All you can do is threaten defenseless women. You must have felt particularly strong when you threw a stone at Josette, but I bet you've never fought a real man.”

_Has Aramis lost his mind? How can he provoke Raymond like that?_

Raymond snorted. “And you feel particularly strong because you're a musketeer? Being cocksure in moments like this requires an incredible level of ignorance. Now put down your rapier and your dagger, this is my final warning…”

Feeling liquid running down her throat, Aurélie moaned. _Please, just do as he says!_

Aramis obeyed, and while he put his weapons in the dust he approached again. Fixing Raymond with a deadpan stare, he reached out both palms of his hands. “Oh, I suppose the only one being cocksure is you. Come to think of it, you wouldn't have survived half a day in the war against Spain. Even the worst Spanish soldier is umpteen times better than you'll ever be. You can thank me later for canceling the war for you.”

Raymond pushed Aurélie toward Aramis. She absorbed the fall as best as she could, but sharp pain shot through her arms when she hit the ground.

Raymond hacked and slashed at Aramis as if out of mind.

The Musketeer didn't back down, instead he blocked Raymond's swinging movement with his arm. Aramis grabbed Raymond’s throat with his hands and pushed back, crashing them both to the ground.

Raymond howled like an angry bear.

Aramis rolled off him and jumped up. Bright blood gushed through his shirt off his left upper arm. Then Aramis grabbed his rapier with lightning speed and spun around.

In the meanwhile Raymond had leaped up to his feet and had unsheathed his own rapier.

Aurélie didn't know anything about sword-fighting, she’d never had a sense for the art of war, but she knew right away that Raymond wouldn't stand a chance. Aramis played with the raging man, parried Raymond's uncontrolled blows with an ease she had never seen before. A well-aimed motion of Aramis’ wrist deflected Raymond's sword, throwing Raymond off balance, and the unequal fight was over before it had even begun. Taking advantage of the momentum, Aramis used his free hand to knock Raymond down.

Rolling around in a cloud of dust, Raymond reached with his hand for Aurélie's skirt. Aurélie couldn’t hold in her scream and scrambled back, but Raymond grabbed her foot and pulled her towards him. Aurélie hit her head against the hard ground. A stabbing pain exploded in the back of her head and her field of vision darkened.

By the time she opened her eyes again, Aramis had already set one foot on Raymond's chest and the rapier at his throat. Wild ruthlessness was reflected in his face and a shiver ran down Aurélie's spine, recognizing the image of a predator.

“As I told you before, there are two kinds of moments in life and this is your last chance to make a wise decision,” said Aramis.

“You bloody coward, do you think you've won? Do you think I don't know who you really are? You Spanish son of a bitch...“

Aramis clenched his jaw and Aurélie stopped breathing as the musketeer increased the pressure on his rapier. The first drops of blood began to drip down Raymond's neck.

“Aramis, stop it!” Aurélie reached out her hand, although knowing it was a foolish gesture. Their eyes met and Aurélie was sure that Aramis would kill Raymond. But within the next heartbeat the ice-cold killer she had seen in Aramis a moment ago had vanished into thin air.

Aramis pulled back his rapier and stepped away. “You're lucky, she has just made the right decision for you. Now get up and don't you dare show your face here again. Go! Move!“

Raymond rose and Aramis made his point by hitting Raymond's backside with his rapier like a schoolmaster with his rod. As Raymond stumbled away, he turned around briefly and shot Aurélie a gaze full of blind rage, wounded pride and fanatical madness.

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

“It’s over. Come on, let me help you.” Aramis’ voice was full of kindness and warmth and Aurélie reached out for his hand. Getting up caused a violent headache and she leaned against Aramis' chest. 

Closing her eyes, the masculine scent of horse, leather, burnt gunpowder and gun oil calmed Aurélie within a few breaths. _You smell like Saniel...I could stay like this forever, but Féli..._

“My goodness, Félicien! We need to find him!“


	3. Chapter 03

Aramis leaned his right hand against a big oak tree, which stood in a small clearing just outside the camp. He looked up at the small boy amongst the branches.

“Féli, come down! Raymond's gone!”

“No!”

A few meters above him, Félicien crouched with tightened legs in a branch fork. There was no better place for a little boy to hide, and Aramis had found it because, as a child, he would have chosen this very spot to hide. The mighty tree must have been several hundred years old. Its gnarled bark, spreading branches and dense foliage radiated the dignity and wisdom of age. The tree was a guardian of good, a symbol of life connecting heaven and earth. Aramis inhaled, feeling secure and safe in the tree's sublime presence. 

“Everything's fine,” he called up to Félicien. “Your maman is safe and nobody will hurt you or her.”

Aramis shifted his weight to his other hand for a better view, but immediately regretted it. A burning pain ran down his upper arm, reminding him of Raymond’s lucky hit. _That damned bastard caught me off guard_. 

The tear in his upper shirt sleeve revealed a nasty, blood-encrusted cut which he would have to deal with later. Yet, the anger he felt at himself was burning more than the wound. He had permitted Raymond to have the upper hand, if only for a brief moment. But remembering the easy fencing with the weaker fighter calmed his annoyance and he shrugged his shoulders, brushing the whole thing off. 

_If I only had used my pistol earlier, it would have been over more quickly... whatever, next time…_

“No, I'm not coming down.” To emphasize his words, Féli drew his feet closer.

“Féli, please. Don't force an old man to climb up to you.”

Félicien leaned forward and Aramis could see his red eyes and nose. The boy looked like a cat that had climbed the tree with enthusiasm, but now couldn't find its way down, until a mischievous grin ran across the boy's face. “You're too fat for that anyway, you wouldn't make it!”

“Thank you. Very charming,” mumbled Aramis.

Aramis tossed the thoughts aside and looked up again at the boy. “Guess what? When I was a boy, I couldn't keep away from a tree.”

“But that was a long, long time ago...”

Aramis laughed. “Don't get cocky up there. Now come down, your mother's already worried.”

The boy retreated back into the branch fork. “No, I'm scared! I'll never come down again.”

Aramis sighed. He would have had no choice but to climb. 

As in his childhood, he figured out the most comfortable route from below before he climbed the first branch. His body remembered the sequence of movements from his youth, he knew exactly where the best holds and kicks were. His left arm protested under the pulling movement, but Aramis refused to be distracted.

_Why had it been so much easier in my memory?_

Groaning, Aramis hoisted himself onto the branch fork next to Félicien and took a deep breath. He examined his left arm with clenched teeth. Fresh drops of blood testified his climbing had not been conducive.

“My maman can take a look, she knows her stuff, we have a whole wooden box full of herbs, tinctures and pastes.” Félicien took a closer look at Aramis’ arm. “Does it hurt much?”

“Don't worry, I'm fine.”

“Do you always lie?”

Aramis stared at the boy with furrowed brows. “Do I...? No! No, of course not...”

_I'm just not telling the whole truth. About this, or…_

Aramis and his pain had their own story. And he liked to keep it to himself. Savoy had almost broken him, leaving him incapable of speaking the unspeakable. And the pain he’d caused these villagers wasn’t helping the burden he already carried. But he was here now, and helping them would also be helping himself.

Félicien’s childlike eyes showed nothing but openness. “If you hurt, just say you're hurting.”

Aramis gave a bitter laugh. “It's complicated...”

_I am fine_. 

With these three words Aramis had created a new reality, which everyone around him had gladly accepted. This was much easier than facing his endless pain. The myth of the invincibility of Aramis had been born. And at a certain point, he had started to believe that his pain was not worth being revealed, because it was easier to hide. But a six-year-old had seen through this charade. _The boy is very smart..._

Félicien shook his head. “What's so complicated about that? Either it hurts or not.”

Aramis sighed. “Well then...It burns like hell.”

Sitting up, Féli grinned. “I knew it! Once I cut myself with my dad's knife, it didn't stop bleeding. It hurt so much...” The boy looked around and whispered “...and burned like hell.”

Aramis put his hand on Félicien's leg and they both laughed. The childlike simplicity had discovered a direct path into his soul, revealing what had long been forgotten… and wiped it away just like that.

“Do you know what burns even more?” Féli tapped his finger on the nose. “Maman's tincture. But it speeds up the wound healing.”

“Then let's go and let your mother see the cut. And then we'll find out what her tincture is capable of.” Aramis patted Félicien on the thigh and turned to climb down.

“I'm scared.”

Aramis turned back. “You don't have to be scared. I’ve chased Raymond away.”

“If papa was here, he'd have chased him away and I wouldn't have to sit in this tree.”

Aramis scrutinized the child. He noticed a pain on the boy's face he knew all too well. “Where's your father?”

Pouting, Félicien wrapped his arms around himself. “He's dead. I never knew him. But he was a soldier. He would have made short work of Raymond and protected Maman and me.”

Aramis put his hand on the child's shoulder. “I am sorry. We all feel sad when someone we care about dies. Even though you didn't know him. But I'm sure he was a great man if he had a son like you.”

Félicien's eyes filled with tears, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. “But I miss him so.”

Aramis swallowed. Félicien was far too young to understand the finality of death and yet the little fellow understood what the loss of his father meant for his life. Aramis could not take away his loss, but he could share it with him. He’d lost too many in his own life. “Shall I tell you a secret? But you must tell no one.”

Féli pinched his lips together. “What if I tell someone?”

_They'd break me on the wheel._ “Well, some people would be a bit annoyed with me. You swear?”

Félicien nodded and put his hand on his heart. “I swear.”

_What am I doing?_ But seeing the boy so filled with sadness and despair, it awakened a deep, unknown desire in Aramis to rise above himself. Right now nothing in the world seemed more important than to comfort the child and himself.

Protected by the old oak tree and the security of childish naivety, Aramis dared to confess his treason. “I have a son. And I cannot even call him my son. Although I see him time and again, he is far away. Sometimes it feels as if he were dead. I miss him as much as you miss your dad. I think about him every day and there would be nothing better than to hold him in my arms just once. Or climb a tree with him. Or even just talk to him.”

Féli sniffed. “So, you can't be with him?”

“No, not really, he's out of reach for me...” Aramis scraped his fingers so hard on the bark of the tree that they hurt. But this pain could not mask the emotional pain.

“Is he on the other side of the world?”

Aramis laughed with sadness, and his eyes locked with Félicien's. “I suppose he is on the other side of the world...”

“That's sad.”

“It is. But I'll tell you something. He's always in here.” Aramis put his hand on his chest.

Félicien bit his lower lip, tilted his head.

“People we love are always with us. They are in our thoughts...” Aramis put his hand on the child's chest. “...and in our hearts.”

Féli didn't move, but his eyes wandered in all directions to finally focus on Aramis again. A wide and easy grin appeared on Féli’s lips. “But that means I can never lose my papa... if he's always in there…”

Aramis nodded. “You obviously got what I said. But if we don't go back to your mother soon, she will run out of patience.”

Aramis offered his hand to the boy. Félicien reached for it and Aramis pulled him forward, hoisting him one branch further down. Quick as a squirrel, the boy climbed down the rest of the way and, to Aramis' regret, the little one had to wait quite a while for him to reach the ground again.

They were not even near the tent when Aurélie ran toward them with outstretched arms. She dropped to her knees in front of Félicien and hugged him. Then she backed away from the child and looked at Féli without letting go. 

“I'm so sorry, Féli, I'm so sorry! This should never have happened.” Aurélie sobbed and embraced Féli once more. She nodded at Aramis, her mouth forming a silent “Thank you”.

“I told you I had found him once and I could do it a second time. We talked like men, you have a very brave son.” 

“All is well, Maman, I'm fine. Really.” Féli turned to Aramis and winked.

“All right, then.” Aurélie rose with a sigh and took Féli by the hand. “Come now, no need to pack today, it'll soon be evening. As for me, I'm starving after all this excitement.” She smiled at Aramis. “If you want, you're welcome to stay for dinner. I don't have much, but something will turn up.”

“Thanks, I'd like to stay a while longer, if I am not causing any trouble,” he replied. He felt good, satisfied. He’d helped a small boy, and his mother. His penance was beginning, and he couldn’t deny how wonderful it felt. “I have some jerky and bread in my saddlebag, which I'm happy to share.”

Féli jumped up and down. “Yes! He is staying!”

“That sounds good to me.” Aurélie smiled and shooed Féli towards the tent. “Well, young man, go and get the undergrowth for the fire, Aramis and I will gather up anything edible for now.”

Félicien cheered and galloped like a pig towards the lumberyard. He had forgotten to take a basket to carry the wood, but he would notice soon enough.

Aramis looked after him then followed Aurélie to her tent. He headed straight for the goat gate and Solitario, when Aurélie put her hand on his shoulder to hold him back.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I just wanted to tell you that I've collected your weapons and put them in your saddlebag. I'd be grateful if you could leave them there, at least until we've eaten. I wouldn't want Félicien to see how serious the situation really was.”

Aramis noticed that Aurélie had cleaned up the small wound on her neck left by Raymond's knife. A thin red line was all that remained of the horror she had suffered. The marksman understood that what had been a skirmish for him had taken on dramatic dimensions for her. But his weapons were more than just tools. They were an extension of his body, a part of his personality, insignia of his military strength.

“A musketeer should never part with his weapons...”

Seeing the pleading look in Aurélie's eyes and the way she kneaded her hands, Aramis sighed and weighed his options. Since he had made his point, Raymond was no real threat to him anymore. Thus, it was more important to calm the unsettled woman. “Of course, if you feel more comfortable. But I can assure you, I had everything under control. You and Féli were never in any serious danger.”

Aurélie pointed to his bloody shirt sleeve. “But it didn't look like that.”

Aramis smiled. “Don't be mistaken. I am a Musketeer. I am used to situations like this and that is what I have been trained for. Besides, Raymond is a poor fighter, he got a lucky strike.”

Aurélie shook her head. “Don't underestimate Raymond. He can be very vindictive and I've never seen him so... so... fanatical. He carries so much anger within, and nothing he said made any sense. He blames you for Emilie's failure and thinks you're a Spanish spy. He said something about taking up the sceptre and divine providence. Beware of him, there was something in his eyes that frightened me terribly.”

Aramis put his hands on Aurélie's shoulder. “Believe me when I tell you, Raymond won't dare come back. I was never scared of him, it's just that I was not prepared for him. And that won't happen again, I promise you.”

“Well, it seems I have no choice but to take you at your word. You soldiers are bred to believe that you are indestructible, aren't you?”

Aramis laughed. “Obviously not... By the way, Félicien mentioned you know something about the art of healing and that you call a fabulous tincture your own.”

“Yes, that's true, but I doubt whether you will think it's fabulous once it's touched the cut. Come sit over here. I'll get everything I need and then I'll take a look at your arm.”

Aurélie disappeared into the tent and Aramis heard a soft rattling and rumbling. He sat down on the small stool she had offered and watched the busy people of the camp packing their belongings around him. Many of them were nearly finished, but some were still loading their carts. He had intended to serve the people of this place, to make up for some of the mess he had helped to create. But helping this family seemed to be enough for him.

He hoped.

Aramis had no more time to think about it further, for Aurélie had found what she had been looking for. As she stepped out of the tent, armed with a small tin bowl, cloth, and a bottle of an ominous liquid, Félicien returned as well. The boy had taken off his shirt and carried a considerable pile of undergrowth in it. 

Laughing, Félicien emptied the contents of his shirt into the fireplace. “Do you see, I've solved the problem. Oh, and I found Agata back there. And now I'll make a big fire and then Maman can start cooking.”

Aurélie put her stuff next to Aramis on a second stool and rolled up the sleeves of the shirt on his injured arm. “You're going to help me, young man.”

“Maman, cooking is a woman's business. A real man doesn't cook.”

Aramis remembered the last time a woman cooked for him. The Queen had burnt the fish beyond recognition. “You're very much mistaken,” Aramis joined the conversation before Aurélie could reply. “A man should be able to cook and look after himself. How else would I be able to fulfill my missions as a Musketeer when I'm away for days on end with my brothers?”

Féli stopped piling up the wood, and gazed at Aramis with narrowed eyes and lips. “Well, you could always take a woman with you, couldn't you?”

Dirty thoughts entered Aramis’s mind. He laughed, but kept his thoughts to himself. “Yes, indeed, what a nice idea. Every musketeer has his own personal woman...Ouch!” 

The orange liquid that Aurélie spilled across the cut burned like hell. “Sorry,” she said.

Somehow, Aramis didn't buy Aurélie's apology. She was dabbing the edges of the wound a bit too strongly for his taste and Aramis pressed his teeth together. “What on earth is this stuff?”

“Vinegar, mostly. Enriched with a decoction of herbs and onions. Salt and honey. There is no better way to cleanse a wound. Féli's father used to scream bloody murder, too, when he came back from training with lots of wounds. Somehow you Musketeers are all a bunch of snivellers!”

Aramis thought he had misheard Aurélie's last sentence. “Musketeer? I thought your late husband was a soldier in the regular army?”

Aurélie stopped dabbing and applied a grass green paste to the cut. “Hmhmm...he was a musketeer, but that was a long time ago, more than seven years now. He was so proud when he was chosen for a training exercise somewhere near the French border. You probably don't remember him, back then the regiment had just been founded and they had hired many recruits.”

Aramis’ stomach turned into a lump of ice and a shiver ran down his spine. “I've been a musketeer for a long time...”

Aurélie fixed the bandage with a leather cord and stood in front of Aramis. Her eyes had a warm glow and her voice was filled with pride. “Saniel was a Musketeer filled with devotion. He was killed in service at that mission, along with twentyone others, but I never learned anything about the circumstances. He was... Aramis, what's wrong with you? Are you all right? You're pale as death... Aramis, where are you going?”


	4. Chapter 04

Aramis stood, feet planted firmly on the ground, yet he did not feel the earth beneath him. He was falling, like a child from a tree. The world spun around him, the anticipation of hitting the ground as painfully spectacular as the full memories of Savoy arriving forefront in his mind.

He was ten when last he fell from a tree like the old oak. 

_Let your body go limp and absorb the impact_. 

A lesson taught to him, which Aramis could not embrace now. Too painful were the memories of Savoy to face them head on.

_Pain is temporary._

Another lesson he’d learned, not just as a child falling from countless trees, but after years as a musketeer dealing with endless battles. But Aramis did not believe pain was only temporary. He’d been carrying his guilt, his pain for the men who’d died in Savoy for seven years. 

_When was temporary going to become a reality?_

Pressing the palms of his hands against the thick bark, Aramis rooted his agitated mind in the sturdy reality of the tree. Breath after breath, to the rhythm of the rustling sea of leaves above him, he gained his composure, but couldn't push back the images flooding his mind.

Saniel. The handsome musketeer with shining eyes.

_My God, why did I not see it?_

Félicien was the spitting image of the recruit, dark brown eyes, eyelashes as long as those of a court lady. How many times had Aramis teased Saniel, how many times had they laughed about dressing him up as a woman and taking him out to the next royal soiree? Aramis pictured the young man clearly, his soft features, his open and friendly nature.

Saniel. Slaughtered musketeer with the deathly stare.

Aramis' body went limp, and leaning his back against the tree he dropped to the ground. His head buried in his hands resting on his knees, he had again reached the point where his pain left him speechless. He could neither deal with the images in his head and the agony they evoked, nor articulate his thoughts. So he shut his eyes and let his thoughts slide into the cold, white-red snow which he always carried inside him, hoping that his pain would pass. 

A small hand shook his arm and he flinched. Aramis did not dare look Félicien in the eyes. 

In Saniel's eyes.

The soft voice of the child cut through his soul. "Does it hurt much?"

“I'm fine,” he said, finally opening his eyes.

“Liar.”

Aurélie and Féli squatted next to him, their faces one big question mark, yet full of sympathy and affection. They didn't know about his guilt, they didn't condemn him, they didn't reproach him. _Not yet, but that would come._ Aramis sighed and ran his hands through his hair. 

Aurélie cleared her throat. “You knew Saniel, didn't you? You remember him…”

Aramis held her gaze. He wanted to look into her eyes one last time without Savoy coming between them. _Savoy changes everything. Always._ “Yes, I knew him. He was an outstanding recruit, promising, talented. A special training exercise should have put the finishing touches on him, like on all the others. Then he would have received his commission to serve King and country…”

Aramis couldn't talk anymore. Saniel had served his King, had laid down his life for his country, had fulfilled his oath before time.

Aurélie put her hand on her breast. “You know what happened there, don't you? Please, you have to tell me... I've been waiting for an explanation for more than six years …”

“How can this be?” Aramis shook his head. “Why didn't anyone know about you? Or Félicien? Captain Treville paid his condolences to all the relatives. He never mentioned Saniel’s wife or son. Treville, the garrison, all of us would have taken care of you…”

“Oh, we were not married, we were engaged. And Saniel didn't know I was pregnant, nobody knew, I wanted to surprise him after his commissioning. His parents told me about his death and I returned to my parents' farm. But we could no longer run it and so I ended up here.” Aurélie stroked Féli over his head. “But please, tell me if you know anything, if you know why... for his sake…”

Aramis felt the boy's slight tremor on his arm. Félicien didn't say a word, but Aramis suspected that every fiber in him was longing for an answer. 

Aramis found his voice despite the lump in this throat. “Marauding Spaniards crossed the border and attacked us in the early hours of the morning. They were in the majority and had the advantage of surprise on their side. We…”

“You were there?” Aurélie's breathing accelerated and she backed away.

Aramis saw the quivering of her nostrils and the trembling of her lips. “Yes. Yes, I was there.” Aramis bit his lips, but never turned his gaze away. He owed her that much. “We tried to withstand their onslaught, but they caught half of us in our sleep and wiped the rest of us out. We didn't stand a chance, we fought, but we weren't prepared for it.”

Aurélie swallowed. “Saniel?”

Panic, agony, a sea of blood. Aramis fought it all. “Saniel resisted, fought, but... It happened quickly, he did not suffer, I assure you.”

Aurélie put her hand on her mouth, stood and turned away. She trembled, but no sound came out her lips.

“Was my papa a hero?” Félicien's eyes gleamed. Clenching his hands into fists, the boy stood up.

Aramis rose too and put both hands on Féli's shoulders. “Yes, he was. He was one of the bravest men I have ever known. He was a credit to the Musketeer Regiment and I am more than honored to know his son. You can be proud of him.”

Féli blinked, but did not shed a tear. He nodded and the shine of his eyes seemed to radiate straight from the middle of his heart. “My papawas a musketeer.”

Aurélie sobbed and her shoulders slumped. Aramis turned and embraced her in his arms, then gently placed his hand on her head. He closed his eyes and held the crying woman, ready to take her pain and add it to his own. Félicien slid under his arm and Aramis opened his embrace. The boy clung to his leg, holding on to his mother's skirt. And so they stood in the shadow of the tree, which was so much brighter than the darkness of their sadness, and offered each other comfort.

“I'm so sorry, it's my fault,” whispered Aramis in Aurélie's hair.

Aurélie raised her head and tear-stained eyes caught his gaze. “No, what makes you think so? Don't. I am endlessly grateful to you. After all these years, I have finally gotten answers that I can live with. It was this uncertainty that tore me apart. Did he fight? Would he have had a chance? Did he suffer? But destiny has led you to us, you are the answer to my prayers, you give my soul peace. And you have given Félicien a piece of his father.”

Aramis released his embrace and swallowed. “I was the only one who survived.”

“At least you survived. At least someone…”

“You don't understand. Saniel had you, he would have been a father soon. Of all of us he should have survived, because he had the most to lose. If I had known that, if I had…”

“What? Would you have died so he could live? It wasn't meant to be, Aramis. Your life has assumed a greater meaning because you are the only one. That is your obligation. Saniel and all the others live on in your memory, you keep their legacy and I couldn't think of a better man to do so.” Aurélie inhaled, and wiping the tears from her face, she drew Félicien close. Nothing but warmth and gratitude was glowing in her eyes.

He didn't deserve her understanding, her forgiveness. Never had he felt the guilt of survival more than now, not even when he had held the dying Marsac in his arms. But her words affected something in him.

He needed to keep Saniel's legacy alive.

It was right in front of him. He _did_ need to save this one family.

Aramis knelt before Félicien and took his hands. So small, so innocent, so worth protecting. “Féli, I cannot bring your father back, but I promise that I will always be there for you in his place. There's enough room in the garrison for you and your mother, we...I'll take care of you like your father would have done. This is my sacred duty and the fulfillment of the oath I swore to my brothers as a musketeer. I owe this last service to your papa. One for all and all for one.”

Félicien opened his eyes. “You mean, you'll take me with you? Me and Maman? To the garrison? I can be a Musketeer?”

Aramis smiled and nodded. He had no idea how he would be able to keep his promise, but he would worry about that when they were back in Paris. 

Féli could start at the bottom. Taking care of horses, cleaning weapons, getting to know the business from scratch and growing into the task. He would take care of the boy, he would teach him to read, write and calculate, he would show him how to hold a rapier, he would have a small pistol made for him so that he could do his first shooting exercises with him. He would show Félicien the world instead of Saniel. And he would go to church with him and he would teach him the Latin prayers of his childhood. He would show him Paris, and when Félicien was old enough he would talk to him about the wonderful essence of a woman.

Like father and son.

“No.”

Aramis spun around. Even though Aurélie's voice had been soft and quiet, its echo reverberated in his heart like a cannon blast. Her word thundered through his brain, dashing his fantasies, leaving nothing but scorched earth. Not a word crossed his lips.

Aurélie smiled, both hands over her heart. “Thank you, but no. We've done very well so far and we'll manage again. I will go to my sister in Montivilliers with Félicien. She is an abbess and always has a place for us in her convent.”

“You want to go to a convent? With the boy?” Aramis could hide the doubt in his voice just as little as he could forget the day when his father had stood with him in front of a monastery door, handing him over to a life which Aramis had already known was wrong for him. “Do you want him to become a priest? A monk? May he not decide for himself what he wants to do with his life?”

“Yes, Maman, I want to decide for myself, Aramis is right.” Félicien stood next to Aramis and put his hands on his hips.

Aurélie shook her head. “Of course, you may decide for yourself what you want to do later, but until then, there's still much for you to learn.”

“But he can learn in the garrison, too.” Aramis raised his shoulders and stretched his palms to Aurélie. “I can teach him, and I have wonderful friends who would be just as glad to pass on their knowledge to him. He can learn everything from horse-keeping to courier services, from paperwork to weaponry. You could also…”

Seeing Aurélie's face, Aramis fell silent. She didn't really seem to share his enthusiasm.

“Félicien can learn all this at the convent and much more.” Aurélie’s voice had taken on a harsh tone.

Aramis didn't see her point. “But Féli needs more than nuns and prayers around him. In the garrison he is being prepared for a life as a man, learning to fight and defend himself.”

Aurélie shook her head. “And how do you imagine this? A boy and his mother in the midst of a regiment, a closed male society whose purpose is fighting? And who will take care of him when you are on guard duty in the palace? Or when you are on the road for days on end? Félicien needs children around him, not soldiers. You think of it very romantically, don't you?”

“No, I... we... musketeers stick together and I promise there will always be someone there for Félicien. We have a strong bond where no one is left alone.”

_Féli needs this… I need this._

“But _you_ won't always be there.” Aurélie sighed, “I was once naive enough to believe that it is possible to be with a soldier and have a family. Fate put an end to this dream before it had even begun. I will not make this mistake a second time. Félicien needs continuity, orderly circumstances.”

Aramis shook his head and crossed his arms. “But that is exactly what he will get in the garrison. Where else would he lead a more orderly, disciplined life than in the garrison?”

“Maman, that's where I'll learn to be like papa!” The boy rubbed his hands and shifted from one leg to the other.

Massaging her temples, Aurélie scrutinized them both, and Aramis had a vague feeling that he wouldn't like what she would say next.

“Aramis, don't you see? You can't guarantee us a future. At the end of a soldier's path, death is always waiting, no matter how well prepared he is. Do you wish to do this to Félicien? Always waiting for you to return from your missions? He has already lost a father, should he now live in constant fear of losing you as well? What will you do when the war which Emilie has prophesied breaks out? What will happen to us then?”

Aramis ran his hands through his hair. Like a flood, the images of the past years floated through his thoughts.

Fights, wounds, graves.

Violence, pain, death.

Aurélie put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with understanding. “Believe me, the garrison is no place for a child and the last thing I want for Félicien is to share his father's fate. And even if we all have to die at some point, I want my son to have a life he has a chance to live.”

“Maman... please…”

Aramis sighed and knelt before Félicien. “We will have this conversation again. Until then, I promise that I will always be here for you.”

The corners of Félicien's mouth moved down and his eyes became moist.

Aramis squeezed his upper arm. “Besides, you have to grow some muscles here. How are you going to hold a pistol when you're as thin as a rake? And how are you going to fire a pistol when you can't even spell ‘pistol’, hmm?”

The boy grimaced, but then grinned mischievously. “I can write my name, you know?”

“Well done. Will you show me?”

“Yes! Maman, have you packed the writing things yet?”

Aurélie shrugged. “I have no idea. They'll be somewhere. I haven't even packed half of our stuff, there's loads of work to do.”

Aramis rose. “At least let me help you move, then. I'll ride to Paris and talk to the captain. He still owes you something. I'll come back tomorrow with a team of horses and escort you to Montivilliers.”

Which… would also give him more time to convince them to come with him to the garrison.

Aurélie stroked her dress, and her eyes whipped between Aramis and the camp. She sighed. “Yes, that sounds good to me. But not until we have eaten something. My invitation still remains valid and I am no less hungry than before.”

Laughing, Aramis patted Féli on the shoulder. “I'd love to. Come on, young man. While I teach you how to make a decent stew, I'll tell you some stories about your papa. You'll be amazed how often he was dressed down by our captain.”

Félicien grabbed his own head with both hands. “Really? What did he do?”

Aramis stretched out his hand, which the boy took with a beaming face. Like a delicate bird, the child's hand was lying in his. Warmth filled Aramis’s entire chest and he felt as if he were holding his son in his arms. It seemed like a miracle that for the first time, Savoy had brought him more than pain. Life had found its way out of the black tombs by unforeseen paths. In some ways, he was no longer the only survivor, and he could never have believed that he would ever associate gratitude with Savoy. He had lost his comrade, but gained his friend's son as a companion. 

Smiling, Aramis squeezed Félicien's hand. “Let's go back to the tent and then you can pick my brain about your papa…”

  


***

  


“Goddamn it, hold still, Raymond!”

“Stop it!” Raymond wouldn't hold still anymore and hit Clement's hand. 

The thin, little man with the pale skin stared at him, his lips pressed together, as the shred of cloth, meant to clean Raymond's neck wound, fell to the dusty ground in front of his tent. 

Instantly, Raymond’s men gathered around him fell silent.

Clement bent down and picked up the shred. “If we don’t clean the wound properly, it will become inflamed.”

_I am already inflamed!_ The fire of Raymond’s wrath burned in his chest, but more so the fire of his vocation. Again and again his thoughts returned to the humiliating moment when Aramis had duped him. Everything could have worked out according to plan if this dirty Musketeer had not dared to resist him. No, to resist God himself.

Raymond rose and looked at each of his seven men, stepping into the middle of the small circle. “Clement, all of you, can't you see it?” He ran his fingers over the encrusted wound, tight enough to make it bleed again, then held them upward to the sky. “My blood is the seed for God's plan. It is the first sacrifice in the war against the devilish Spanish monarch. But I assure you, it is the last French blood to be shed. God himself will make sure that the Spanish spy will pay a high price for his crimes. And all of us will be His instruments." 

Clement bit his lower lip. “Please, Raymond, remember that he is still a Musketeer. A whole regiment is at his disposal and you have seen for yourself that he knows his craft.”

The mention of his defeat tasted like bitter herbs in Raymond's mouth. “Every martyr has to suffer and fall first so that his testimony of God's glory can rise all the higher. God will not allow Aramis to rebel against me once more.”

“You can' t do that, the King will not let it go unpunished if you attack one of his elite soldiers. The King will…”

“The King will be grateful! I will eradicate the evil which is flourishing right before his eyes and fulfill my sacred duty to him and my country.” With this thought, a pleasant coolness poured over Raymond's heated mind and he took a deep breath. Seeing his path before him, the clarity of his mission gave him security. “I ask you, what could be more precious than making the world a better place? Emilie has fulfilled her task, she has brought us together, but it is God's will that her fight will be continued for the good of our country. God's will! We were knighted as soldiers for the one true faith and we will defeat evil under my guidance!”

Nodding, the men around him raised their fists. Raymond saw greed and bloodlust flickering in their eyes and he knew he had convinced them. 

Clement was pulling small threads out of the shred of cloth and swallowed several times. “But Aramis has come on behalf of the King. It was Louis' wish that Emilie give up her plans, and in my opinion her last instructions were clear: we should go home. Let the King fight for his subjects himself, it is the duty of his soldiers and not ours. God cannot ask this sacrifice of us.”

The men, who had been talking excitedly a moment ago, fell silent. Raymond was staring at Clement and without taking his eyes off his friend, he bent down and lifted a burning branch from the fire.

“God can ask everything from us. Everything! But in return he will give us the whole world. Like the Holy Spirit came upon his disciples as fire, God is igniting the flame of justice and purification in us. Can't you feel it, my friend?”

Approaching Clement, Raymond noticed with satisfaction how the man was retreating with big eyes. 

Clement's shallow and rapid breathing was clearly visible. “Raymond? What are you going to do? I just wanted to warn you, I never wanted to question your...uh...our mission...please...I…”

Raymond chinned at Arthur, his loyal friend. The giant reached for Clement and the little man had nothing to fight the heavy bulk of his opponent.

“God's flame shall burn in all of us. We are the torchbearers of a new world. A world where pure French blood will reign and bring peace and mercy. But before that, we must sow war and cruelty. In return, the fire of His new creation will burn all the brighter in the darkness of devastation. But woe to him who does not embrace His fire. It will consume him. It will destroy him. But he will come forth purified…”

Raymond grabbed the thin arm of Clement and pulled it towards the burning branch.

“No...please...Raymond...I understand...please don't...no!”

To Raymond, Clement’s piercing scream sounded like the trumpets of heaven announcing the last judgment. The scent of scorched skin filled Raymond’s nose and he was sure he had never smelled anything more fragrant in his life. He had burned out Clement’s sin of doubt, leading him the way to repentance and atonement. 

“Do you see the purifying power of fire? Those who love God will walk over glowing coals and pass through the fires of hell without being burned.” Watching Clement fainting in Arthur's arms, Raymond felt nothing but joy. It was better to let his friend suffer now than to lose him to eternal damnation.

The remaining men stared at Raymond, eyes wide open.

Raymond threw the branch back into the fire. “Yes, fear the judgment of God, for this will be the fate of all who dare to disobey His holy plan. We are not many, but we will become legion. I ask you one last time: Are you ready to bear with me the fire of repentance upon the world? Are you ready to walk with me on the path Emilie has prepared until the end? Are you ready to become warriors of God and to wipe out evil?"

The enthusiasm of the men sounded like heaven's language and the certainty of divine revelation filled Raymond’s soul. “Then let us begin with this little Spanish demon, Aramis.”

Arthur circled his shoulder. “What shall we do?”

Grinning, Raymond spread his arms to feel God's love. “We're going to confront the bastard at the bridge when he is leaving. He is alone. And when we have wrenched the sin from his body, we will take care of his doomed soul.”

  


  



	5. Chapter 05

“Papa did that? Maman, did you hear him?”

Aurélie laughed. “No, Aramis, you are leading us up the garden path...”

“I'm telling you!” Aramis rubbed his hands. “Serge was mad as hell when he searched for his last shriveled winter apples in the morning, and finally discovered them in the completely frozen cauldron.”

While cooking and eating together around the campfire in front of Aurélie's tent, one story had led to another and for the first time, Aramis had allowed himself to think of his dead comrades in this cheerful way. 

_I never would have thought it would please me so much to talk about that time…_

Félicien crammed another spoon of stew into his mouth. “And? What happened next?”

Aramis scratched his eyebrows. “Your papa had to scrape every single apple out of the ice with just a nail. And fourteen days hard labor in the stables.”

Félicien choked and Aramis couldn't help but fall into his laughter. Aurélie chuckled along, her eyes mirroring nothing but gratitude and joy. The bitter memory of Savoy remained, nothing and nobody could take this burden from him, but now he was able to counter it.

Aramis laughter led to a sigh. “That was mid-February. Three weeks later we left for Savoy.”

The crackling of the fire absorbed the silence that spread with his last words, and the warmth of its embers embraced the coldness of his melancholy. Félicien had crawled onto his lap, and leaned against Aramis. Some tangled hairs tickled Aramis' nose, and the boy’s small pelvic bones dug into his thigh. Aramis placed his arms around Féli. He wouldn't have missed this moment for the world.

Aurélie didn't seem bothered by the shared silence either. She looked into the fire and Aramis could only guess which memories were passing by her inner eye. They had to be beautiful, because a dreamy smile played around her lips, which found its way into her eyes, conjuring up tiny wrinkles on her temple.

He knew this was what was right for them, to go with him to the garrison. They could be happy together, as a family... He just had to convince them.

Aurélie shook her head and looked up at Aramis. “Do you actually have a family?”

Féli bent over. “He has a...”

Aramis poked him in his back.

“He...he has a stallion, that's enough, isn't it?”

Aurélie laughed. “Oh, a whole stallion, that's really a big responsibility.”

“You have no idea. Solitario usually behaves like a little child.” Aramis shooed Féli off his lap and rose. 

Having removed his doublet earlier, when he crossed his arms, his hands lay upon the cool material of his shirt, and not the tough pauldron of his regiment. He imagined his fingers running over the firm, old leather and his thoughts wandered to the three men back in the garrison. “My friends are my brothers in every way but blood.But they will preach a sermon to me if I don't show up at the garrison soon.” Aramis darted a searching look into the sky. “Rain clouds are brewing back there. If I hurry I can still make it to Paris without getting wet.”

Féli jumped up. “I will water Solitario once more so he won't get thirsty when he has to run so fast.” The boy disappeared behind the tent and the rattling of the bucket could be heard.

Aurélie got up as well. “I am happy for you. Everyone should have a place to which one belongs. A real home. People on whom one can rely and stick by no matter what happens. Some are even lucky enough to pick their family.”

Taking her hand, Aramis stroked a stubborn strand of hair behind her ears. Smelling the wild thyme and sage on her skin and seeing her well-proportioned features, he understood why Saniel had fallen in love with this woman. “My home could become your home as well.”

Smiling, Aurélie returned his grip. “You better mount up now, I have already heard the evening church bells from the neighboring village. I don't want you punished in the stables for being late...”

Aramis grinned. “Yeah, that would probably not be ideal. Tomorrow at noon I will come back with the carriage and...”

Aurélie tilted her hat. “Are you sure that your plan to accompany us to my sister's convent is really feasible? Aren't you expected in the palace, or don't you have an important mission to fulfill for the King?”

“Oh no, don't worry. My palace duties are sporadic. I’m not needed there for at least a week, so I have plenty of time to help you. By the way, my friends will assume my responsibilities, so we can leave for Montivilliers the day after tomorrow.”

A short time later Aramis had bridled Solitario. Aramis was sure that he would need less than an hour to reach Paris. Reaching for his saddlebag to take out his uniform and put on his weapons, a sharp tug at his shirt interrupted him.

Jumping up and down beside him, Félicien clapped his hands. “May I ride again? Please! Please!”

Aramis forgot his initial task and glanced at Aurélie, who had joined them with a full bag of water. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders as she handed the bag over to him, which he stowed in the saddle.

“Well, young man, I'll take you as far as the bridge, all right? But you have to give me your musketeer's word that you'll help your mother pack afterwards?” Aramis didn't wait for an answer, but lifted the boy into the saddle with verve. He bowed to Aurélie and turned Solitario.

Unlike the first time, Félicien sat with straight back in the saddle, looking ahead and Aramis knew that in his mind, the boy was a Musketeer riding towards his next exciting adventure. _Fortunately, he has no idea how boring it could be, especially at palace guard duty_. Aramis didn't begrudge Féli this moment of reverie and made sure that Solitario walked beside him with his head bowed down.

Arriving at the bridge, Aramis stopped. “Do you descend alone, or shall I...”

Féli swung his legs over the saddle and plumped down on the ground like a wet flour bag. Aramis caught the staggering child and both laughed.

“Tomorrow I'll be back and then you can ride Solitario again. But we have to practice dismounting, there is still much room for improvement.” Aramis tapped Féli on the head. “Now hurry up, we both have a lot coming up today.”

Félicien nodded and galloped toward the campground. After a few meters he turned around and waved to Aramis. Aramis watched him disappear between the tents.

Aramis caressed Solitario’s comb of his mane. “Come on, old boy, no need to be jealous. You know I need you, the hard part is still ahead. Treville will fall out of his dress when he hears Saniel had a fiance and child. But we'll manage that, won't we? And I’m sure the garrison will accept them as easily as I have.”

The stallion liked to be asked and Aramis nudged him in his flank to convince him to walk. But suddenly, Solitario tore his head up. Ears laid back, nostrils dilated.

“Woah, what...?”

Two men approached from Aramis's left, from across the bridge, while two others encroached from his right. 

_Wrong, one man and a giant from his right._

All four men held rapiers in one hand and strong sticks in the other, and their evil grins told Aramis everything he needed to know. His heartbeat quickened. Deep breaths filled his lungs, sending him into battle readiness. Aramis' experienced eyes assessed all necessary details; rusty blades, wrong hand-holding, no centered body position. He smirked. _You really want to mess with me?_

Aramis’ hand slid toward his rapier. _Merde!_

His hand met empty air. Stunned by his own stupidity, Aramis was aware that the tide had just turned in favor of the four men, and now his earlier distraction would cost him dear. His weapons were still packed, and Aurélie had stowed his weapons so well that he couldn't get to them in time. 

And the grins on the bastard’s faces told Aramis they knew he was undefended. 

They approached him step by step.

_Think, think. Two possibilities, battling my way or…_

Aramis lifted a hand in greeting, looking in both directions to the men. “Gentlemen, can I help you with something?”

Baring his teeth, the giant struck his stick against his rapier. “Yes, indeed, you could drop dead. Or you could surrender, that would suffice for a start.”

Aramis struggled to keep his voice light. Inhaling, he took the reins of Solitario tighter. “Ah, there seems to be a little misunderstanding. I am a royal Musketeer and as much as I would like to deepen our conversation, the King himself expects my report in less than an hour. I am already a bit late, so if you would be so kind as to step aside, then…”

One of the men coming from across the bridge raised his blade and aimed it at Aramis’s heart. “The only report the King will receive today is that his loyal subjects have succeeded in exposing and eliminating a Spanish spy. Raymond has told us everything and it's time your filthy game ended once and for all.”

_So this is how it’s going to be then!_ Aramis stepped away from Solitario. “I assure you that Raymond is completely mistaken. As I have already explained once today, an attack on me is an attack on the King. So at the risk of repeating myself, he is expecting me and if I don't appear in the palace within an hour, nothing and nobody will be able to save you from the wrath of His Majesty. Least of all Raymond, for he will hang for his insolence.”

“Just like Raymond said. He's trying to talk himself into trouble,” stated the second man on the bridge as he took another step towards Aramis. “You can’t fool us. Your pretty little lies won’t help you anymore, you dirty rat.” 

Now that they were all on the same side of the bridge, the men closed their circle around Aramis with threatening mien. 

_Damn, that's cutting it close._

Glancing at the bridge, Aramis was confident that if he made it across, this conflict would be over before it began. His breath accelerated along with his heartbeat and every fiber of his body rippled with tension. The familiar tingling in his neck told him the time for bargaining was over.

The giant behind him had almost reached him. “Let’s show the Spanish bastard how real Frenchmen fight. Come on now, he's unarmed!”

_You're dead wrong!_

Aramis leapt into Solitario's saddle. He had practiced this maneuver with the horse umpteen times in the equestrian arena. Just as often as successful, Solitario had shied aside or bucked him off, tossing him mercilessly into the hot sand. But this time, their performance scratched at perfection.

“Let's unleash hell on these men, shall we?” he said to Solitario.

Solitario exploded into a wide leap forward. At the highest point of its trajectory, the horse kicked both legs backwards. From the dull sound of the impact, and the loud escape of air from someone’s lungs, Aramis knew Solitario had hit. _Damn, but not the giant._

Aramis and Solitario landed in front of the two men who had approached from the front. To save themselves, they jumped to the side to avoid being overrun by a half ton of live weight charging toward them. 

Solitario's hooves thundered across the bridge. Aramis and his stallion were a unit, a deadly battle beast. An unstoppable weapon unless one wanted to risk their own life.

“No!” Aramis suddenly braced his feet against the stirrups and parried Solitario at full strength. 

But it was too late, the horse's front legs careened into a taut rope at the end of the bridge, pulled up by two other men Aramis had not seen. Solitario collapsed under Aramis and overturned. The momentum of the abrupt stop hurled Aramis over the horse's neck.

_Let your body go limp and absorb the impact._

Aramis protected his head in the crook of his arms as the force of the impact rammed him onto the gravel road and forced the air out of his lungs. Pain exploded in his head and throughout his right rib cage as he skidded unprotected over the stones until he ended up on his back. 

_Breathe!_ He told himself. But the burning pain in his lungs hindered the action. With his elbows dug into the gravel, he arched his back off the ground to give his lungs the space they desperately needed, but to no avail. Panic rose within him until he managed to catch a breath deep enough to satisfy his need for air. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Solitario struggle to his feet then storm away with a straightened tail and waving mane. _Thank God, nothing has happened to him._

With a loud groan, Aramis picked himself up, but a blow between his shoulder blades vaulted him forward. The unexpected jolt sent a sharp pain up his neck and into his head, which competed with the dull thumping of the rest of his body. But he managed to remain on his feet.

“That's enough,” growled Aramis.

The remaining attackers formed a circle around him, rapiers sheathed but heavy, thick sticks still clasped in their hands. 

_So they don't want to kill me_. 

Smelling his opportunity, Aramis forced back his pain and clenched his hands into fists. But his heart raced, and his shallow breathing wasn’t helping. A lightheadedness overtook him, and he wasn’t prepared for the first blow to his head. But the second one he was ready for. 

He saw the smallest opponent flex his muscles- a tell. The man took a swing at him, and Aramis dove under it and rolled away.Using his momentum, Aramis managed a low sweep of his leg, levelling two other men standing too close to the action, to the ground.

_Move! Move to defend!_

The lesson of Porthos, anchored by countless training sessions, served him well. The next strike crashed beside him onto the ground. Aramis jumped up and charged the man, jabbing a clenched hand several times into his face. 

From Aramis’s left, a fist connected twice with his cheek, ending his battle with the stick wielding attacker. Aramis bore the brunt of another hit with a stick to his chest, which left him further winded. Ignoring the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, Aramis used his recoiling body to bash the small man behind him with the back of his head. The roar he heard let him know he had hit a sensitive spot.

His joy lasted just for a short moment, because a sucker punch buffeted his stomach. He shook it off and lunged forward, wielding his fist against the man, only to be hit by a blow to his back. Aramis gasped as he was thrown forward into the giant's arms.

Arms as strong as a vice wrapped a headlock around him, and the giant took several swings at his kidneys. Spasms ran through his body, but Aramis still managed to bang his fist hard into the man's private area. The giant staggered back and released him. 

Turning around, Aramis jabbed and swung at every face within his grasp until another club collided with his body. Aramis was hurled around between swinging punches and kicks, and it felt as if every second that ticked by, a new bruise was joining the others. Aramis lost his breath. Cold sweat broke out and burned his abrasions.

_I can still do it!_

Aramis pressed the attack to the offensive and lashed out. He didn't care who or what he hit, it was a matter of retaliating as best as he could.

But they continued to encroach upon him.

Aramis withstood their onslaught, but his own fists became as heavy as millstones. For every punch he dealt, he took two. The metallic taste in his mouth increased, and drops of blood in his eyes clouded his vision. 

Aramis’ legs buckled and he staggered back. _Damn, it’s not enough..._

A sharp pain exploded behind his eyes as his head was thrown to the side. Warm blood covered his temple. Aramis slumped to the ground, wherein his tired arms couldn't catch his fall. The impact crushed not only his battered body, but also his resistance. The assaults kept coming, and he found no strength within him to fight back. All he could do now was cover his head and body and withstand the stinging pain. Every blow felt like a knife thrust and made his skin burst open. Aramis curled up to protect himself from the brutal force with which the blows were raining down on him.

“Stop!” 

The roaring voice of Raymond was obscured by Aramis’ heartbeat pounding in his ears. Pure stubbornness allowed him to set himself upright, spitting out blood. Tremors ran through his body and his breath heaved. Sheer hate masked Aramis's pain as he stood up moaning. The world spun around him and he swallowed the nascent sickness. Aramis straightened himself with a clenched jaw and saw what had truly caused him the most pain.

Sneering, Raymond dangled a heavy leather belt in one hand, while Aramis’ blood dripped from the heavy iron buckle into the dusty sand and pearled a delicate pattern.

Again Raymond's men circled him. Scanning their battered faces through his daze, Aramis managed a satisfied smile.

Raymond lifted his chin. “Did you really think you could get away so easily? That you could hide behind the skirt of a woman? That nobody could stop you, because you are a _musketeer_?”

Aramis spat out blood. “Raymond, I'm gonna tell you for the last time. I am not a Spaniard, I am not a spy. And by attacking me you are insulting the King and his direct desires. Take your men and go, run! In two hours, the whole regiment will be here and then God have mercy on you.” 

Raymond rolled his eyes. “As if you know something of God.” Like a snake, he leapt forward with his whole body and dragged Aramis down with him.

The back of Aramis' head hit the ground and his senses faded. Raymond’s knee pressed heavy onto his chest and Aramis couldn't move as the man bludgeoned him with his naked fists.

“God has chosen me to fight His war and purify France from evil!”

Impact, pain. It was all Aramis felt.

“You have insulted God's holy plan by laying hands upon me!”

More impacts, more pain.

“You have tried to seduce upright Frenchmen!”

Impact after impact, agony.

“You have destroyed everything! Everything!” After a final heavy blow, Raymond loosened his knee. He rose and wiped his split-knuckled hands on his pants, leaving smears of Aramis and his blood on the fabric.

Aramis felt warm blood dripping down his face and the rapid swelling of the bruises. Aramis barely managed to turn his head to let the blood that had collected in his mouth drain away. Pain consumed his thoughts. Pain throbbed through his body. Pain became everything. Aramis’ limbs felt heavy, the ground sucked him in, but he didn't allow his mind to succumb. He still had to save Aurélie and Féli.

_Pain is temporary._

Mobilizing what little strength he had left in him, his will triumphed over the soreness of his body and he lifted himself up onto his knees. Squeezing his eyes, Aramis pushed the lurking nausea back again. 

The strong tremor he felt roll through his body allowed him to stand up only at his second attempt. Swaying, he stretched out his hands to find some kind of support, but the men around him retreated laughing. There was no support here, only mockery and ridicule.

“Coming to a fight with no weapon requires an incredible level of ignorance. Pride always goes before a fall. And you will fall, little Spanish devil, you will fall. I promise.”

The serenity of Raymond's voice alerted Aramis more than his exuberant madness, and his instincts told him to flee in order to fight another day. Pressing one arm against his ribs, he staggered away from the vicious voice.

“Where are you going? Do you think you can escape your fate?”

A whistling sound rent the air before something hard and cold dug deep into his side, cleaving open skin and tissue above his left hip and embedding itself in his side like an axe left in the wood it was meant to split. Aramis cried out, but the fall-wind of agony dispersed his senses in all directions. 

_Let your body go limp and absorb the impact… No, absorb the pain._

But Aramis was his young self again, falling from a tree in his childhood; too stubborn to listen to advice, too affected to control his actions and thoughts as his mind and body flailed in desperation and his body hit the ground in an explosion of pain. 

He was jerked backwards by the instrument embedded above his hip. _Pain is not temporary_ , he said to himself, as he was dragged across the ground. _It is lasting_. 

Raymond pulled Aramis like slaughtered cattle to the nearby lumberyard, leaving a trail of blood moisturizing the dry ground. 

Aramis was spent. Empty. Bankrupt. He absorbed the pain like a comforting shroud as the giant helped Raymond lift Aramis into an upright position and lean him against a large, sawed-up tree trunk.

Aramis’ eyes met Raymond's which reflected nothing but contempt and satisfaction. A smile played around Raymond’s lips as he tore the iron hook from Aramis' side with a sharp movement.

Aramis lacked the air to scream. Heat burned through his side while the rest of his body was pierced by freezing cold. He pressed his hand against the now gaping wound. Warm blood poured out between his fingers. 

Clenching his teeth, Aramis' breath was shallow and intermittent. Tears watered his narrowed eyes. His heart beat so hard against his chest that it felt like it would rip apart like his side.

Raymond's voice penetrated the enticing darkness which had enveloped Aramis. “You can be grateful. I have exorcised the demons from your sinful body and soon I will purify your soul as well. Do not be afraid. It won't hurt...” A malicious expression covered Raymond’s face. “To think about it, it will hurt and I'm not sorry.”

Raymond darted his chin toward one of his men, then he raised Aramis' right hand and pressed it onto the trunk.

Aramis felt the thick bark of the dead tree cut into his palm. The tree had been a victim of its fortune, too, and there was nothing left of it but small pieces. Deadwood. The pain caused by the thick iron nail which Raymond drove through his hand with two powerful blows, was absorbed by his steadfast agony. A soft moan crossed his lips, another tremor ran through his body. 

_Let your body go limp and absorb the impact._

Aramis gratefully let himself fall into the darkness of unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter 06

An icy shiver stroked through Aramis and tugged every fiber of his body like a violin string. Each sound dragged his consciousness out of the fortress of oblivion into the glaring light of awareness, leaving a path of pain. His rapid heartbeat set the rhythm of his faltering breath. He was cold to the core and yet his system was in raging flames. The violence of his pain tore his insides apart and Aramis opened his eyes with a gasp.

He blinked several times to force the spinning world to a standstill, but without success. Rising nausea brought cold sweat to his skin which mixed with warm, sticky liquid. A heavy tremor led his heartbeat into a stutter. 

_Pain is lasting_. 

The lesson burned its way back into his soul and competed with his suffering.

Heaven knows how he had reached this point. Here he was at the mercy of the forces of madness and fate, when all he had wanted was to redeem himself by helping these people, not harm them.

Clenching his teeth, Aramis rumbled and braced against despair and hopelessness which reached for him with ruthless claws. He had stayed here because a legacy had been revealed. A legacy of life that withstood the death of twenty one comrades. The warm light of a child had melted the icy snow of Savoy and his downfall into destruction was caught by the smile of a little boy. Nothing in the world was now more important than to save Félicien and Aurélie from further harm. Something good had to have come from Savoy… from Emilie.

Groaning, Aramis straightened up.

Aramis centered his thoughts on the essential points. He could only help Féli and his maman if he could escape. The thought of the boy unleashed a power within that was stronger than his pain, changing the alignment of his world. _I need to act… now!_

Aramis eyes wandered around. “How can I...? Where...?”

A glimmer of hope at the edge of the lumberyard caught his attention. The tree of life. The great oak where he and Féli had gotten to know each other. 

The best hiding places were where nobody would suspect one. If he could get to the oak and somehow clamber up it, he could hide in the thicket of the old branches. He knew he couldn’t get farther than that before Raymond and his men returned, so he would have to hide and wait until the time was right. Under the cover of night he might be able to slip past them, and get Féli and Aurélie, and himself to safety. 

A cool gust of wind announcing the approaching rain made the leaves of the oak rustle and Aramis felt as if the tree had just given him an answer. It was a poor plan, but the only one he had up in his sleeve.

Wincing, Aramis looked down on himself. His already bloody shirt and pants were soaked in blood. The fabric was stuck to the wound on his side, which was probably gaping open, but Aramis didn't dare to look. As far as he could tell, the worst bleeding had stopped, and Aramis was grateful for this small mercy.

It was time to move. Aramis bit his lip. “Let’s see how secure this nail really is...”

Raymond and his henchmen had left him alone. Aramis looked at the nail holding him tight to the stump. 

_You trust this damn nail too much._

It would not be the first time men underestimated him. 

Raymond had not driven the slender spike of iron all the way through, and the nail head protruded almost a half inch above the back of his hand. 

Aramis sighed. Everything inside him was reluctant to add an ounce of further agony to his maltreated body. _Absorb the pain._ Aramis closed his eyes and grabbed the nail with his left hand and yanked hard. His fingers slipped away, too much blood had made the nail’s head slippery. Stabbing pain crawled all the way up his arm and into his brain, and he groaned with clenched jaws. 

Aramis cursed in all available languages. He trembled, and was about to heave up his stomach contents. The taste of bile filled his mouth and he pressed his lips together. His chest heaved up and down. Flexing the fingers of his left hand, he braced himself, focused on Félicien's face in front of his inner eye, and wiped his hand as good as he could and once again gripped the head of the nail.

“Dammit,” he hissed, as he gave the nail another good yank.

This time the nail slipped out. Aramis’ vision blurred. He tilted to the side. Following his instincts, he curled up and the prayers of his childhood flowed over his lips like the blood from his palm. Aramis pressed his hand on his chest and for a brief moment he couldn't tell where his heart was, it seemed to thump all over his body. A part of him begged to surrender to the tantalizing darkness, but Féli's face shone bright like a torch and showed him the way out of his agony.

Breath after breath Aramis regained his composure. The trembling subsided and his heartbeat normalized. Aramis pressed his back against the tree stump and pushed himself higher and higher without using his hands. His ribs and bruises protested against the pressure of the movement. With narrowed eyes and bared teeth, Aramis pushed himself off the dead wood and stood. As the faltering world stopped spinning around he took the first step.

Hand pressed against the wound on his side, Aramis limped across the lumberyard toward the old oak, the rising wind cooling his burning skin. He moved like an old man, legs heavy and back bent forward. Every step took its toll until only concern for the boy and pure stubbornness drove him forward. 

One of his legs gave way and he stumbled forward. At the last moment he supported himself on the trunk of the oak, wincing as he pressed his sore palm against the rough bark.

The tree withstood the pressure of Aramis suffering and caught him.

Aramis sighed. “Thank you, Lord...”

The branches creaked and swayed to the rhythm set by the wind, but the old oak with its deeply entrenched roots, resisted the increasing gusts and stood its ground. Aramis took as deep a breath as his bruised ribs would allow, and let the bitter smell of the bark reminded him of his plan.

The wound in his side was bleeding again. His beaten body resisted any further movement, but Aramis would not back down. “Pull yourself together. You must do this. Aurélie and Féli need you.”

He looked up. The blood in his ears rushed like the leaves above him while his eyes searched for the best way up. It took an almost insurmountable amount of effort to raise his hands and lay his pierced palm on the lowest branch. But with Félicien and Aurélie’s fate counting on him, he managed to shift his weight onto his hands and pull himself up.

The familiar tingling of his neck warned him of the danger, but it was too late. 

_Merde._

Rain clouds crept across the early evening sun and darkened not only the sky, but also his last hope to get out of this whole mess. The rain poured hard, making the branches too slippery to grab. 

Aramis sank to the earth. But the rain was not the only source of his defeat. As his eyes took in the rain soaked ground around him, he saw a pair of boots. And behind that pair, several others. Slowly, Aramis looked up and came face to face with the other source of his ruination.

“Well, the musketeer has freed himself, how brave,” mocked Raymond. He stood a few meters away with his raised pistol. “Did you really think you could get away so easily? Are you so afraid of the judgment of God, which will now condemn your damned soul for all eternity?”

Aramis wasn’t concerned with God’s judgment. God knew him. But he did fear for Félicien and Aurélie. 

Aurélie was pushed forward next to Raymond by the giant man from earlier, her hands tied in front of her body, her mouth gagged. A bruise shone on her left temple and her braid was disheveled. Signs of a struggle. But now, as she continued to retaliate, her screams were muffled under the gag. Only when noticing Aramis, did Aurélie freeze in the middle of her violent strife and stare into his eyes.

Another of Raymond’s men had clamped Félicien under his arm like a sack of flour. The boy didn’t move, but when he caught sight of Aramis he fidgeted and his voice cracked. “Aramis! Aramis! Please! Ara...” 

A slap on the back of his head turned the boy silent.

A shiver ran through Aramis, and a feeling of something unknown, unprecedented, arose within. The feeling reminded him of the moments when he feared for his brothers in a fight, but now it had gained new intensity. Worry and fear, anger and love. This child was innocent, defenseless, at the mercy of fate and the will of a lunatic.

_No._ _I will not allow this._

Using his surging anger and contempt for Raymond to push back his pain, Aramis gathered his last remaining strength and stared Raymond in the eyes. “Don't you dare harm them!”

Raymond smirked and waved with his gun. “Could it be you're misunderstanding something here? I don't see you in any position to bargain.”

Aramis clenched his hands into fists and used the pain pulsating through his right hand to feed his anger. “We both know what this is about, Raymond. The boy and his mother have nothing to do with this. Or are you hiding behind a woman again... _and_ a child?”

Raymond's fat grin turned into a hateful grimace. “The only one here who has destroyed a woman's life is you. First Emilie, now Aurélie. It seems every woman who gets involved with you has to pay a bitter price in the end. You have their pure, innocent souls on your conscience. But now you will pay for it, you dirty Spanish spy. You pretend to be helping the people of France… but it’s just like a Spaniard to think only of himself and his own needs.”

Raymond turned to the henchman who was carrying Féli and tore the boy from his arms. Féli fell with a scream to the ground. Raymond dragged the child towards him and pointed the dangerous end of the pistol at his temple. 

Aurélie cried out under the gag and kicked against the giant, but the man jabbed her and she dropped down. Eyes wide open in shock and body stiffened, Aurélie remained seated as the man held her down with a strong hand on her shoulder.

Aramis stomach turned into a lump of ice. Deep fear held his breath and heart in a cold grip. He was in no place, or shape, to resist Raymond and they both knew it. 

Aramis wanted Raymond to truly understand the depths of his hatred for him, but he didn’t want to reveal his agenda. “You are right, Raymond. I used the woman and boy to get information. I needed their help to move around the camp without arousing suspicion. Emilie's ideas had to be nipped in the bud and I couldn’t allow anyone to pursue her plan further.”

Raymond licked his lips. “So you admit it? You admit you're a Spanish spy? That you betrayed the King, infiltrated the Musketeer Regiment, and that you had no other intention than to destroy God's holy plan?"

Aramis' lips trembled, but he remained silent.

Raymond squinted and cocked the hammer of the pistol.

Aramis couldn’t take his eyes off Félicien. _Come on, Aramis. You can do this. Just give Raymond what he wants._ “Yes, I admit this to you. You have seen through my charade. My life is in your hands now. _My_ life. Let the woman and the boy go. I have played this game far too long and I am tired of it. It’s enough, you and I, just the two of us, we will settle this matter.”

Raymond threw his head back in triumph. “I knew it! I knew it from the beginning!” His insane laughter echoed across the clearing until he paused and placed his index finger over his mouth. “Wait... what did you say? You think... you think I'm so barbaric that I would harm the boy? A French boy and his French mother just to hurt a Spanish traitor? You can't be serious!”

Aramis raised his eyebrow and withstood Raymond's angry look.

Raymond aimed the pistol at Aramis. “Your hubris is boundless, but I don't need leverage to convict you of your crimes.” His voice turned dark, as did his eyes. “Aramis, I accuse thee before Our Almighty God. You have sinned against our French Majesty by deluding him and betraying his trust. You have deceived good French soldiers, honorable Musketeers, and I am sure that you have sacrificed their lives for your purposes more than once. And all for this Spanish devil you call Lord and King, who is nothing but a snake among the devil's crawlers. And in all this you have abandoned the Lord God...” He waited a beat before he spoke again. “I hereby sentence you to death.”

Aramis froze, for he knew he had lost the game. He was at the mercy of this man's blindness and madness and he was alone. His brothers were far away and didn't even know what kind of danger he was in. And he had failed in penance. His eyes whipped between Félicien, Aurélie, Raymond and his men. His agony vanished into his despair. His thoughts raced in scattered directions. 

_But my ending must have meaning… And I must not give up._

Raising his hands, Aramis stretched out his bloody palms towards Raymond. “I am still a Musketeer. I demand to be brought before the King. And you will certainly not risk killing a member of the Royal Guard, because you are missing one crucial thing... real proof. Only I can confirm your story, and for that you need me alive. Let the boy and the woman go, and I will let you bring me before the King. Let His Majesty decide what is going to happen to me.”

Raymond frowned and pressed his lips together. His chest rose and fell, his eyes twitched. Slowly he lowered his weapon.

_Yes, go on..._

“Raymond! Listen to him, for Christ's sake!” Aurélie had managed to pull the gag from her mouth. “Please, be reasonable. If you stop now, there's no greater harm done and we can all go our way...”

A blow from the giant threw Aurélie forward, but she was able to catch herself before falling. Another henchman tore Aurélie by her braid onto her knees and raised his hand again to strike.

“Maman!” Félicien screamed and punched Raymond with his fists.

Raymond reached out and hit the child in the face with his flat hand. Féli cried as he fell to the ground. Raymond bent down and dragged the boy towards him. Again he pointed his pistol at Aramis with restless eyes and pressed lips. Raymond chinned to the giant. “Arthur, show the woman how to behave in the presence of God's Prophet.”

Raymond shook Félicien. “Take care, son! This Spanish snake has seduced you and your mother. You got involved with him and sinned against God and our King. There is only one way you can repent. Kill this man and prove that you are a true son of France.” With a devilish grin Raymond put Félicien the pistol into his hand. “Or shall my man kill your mama instead?”

Féli trembled like a leaf. The heavy weapon almost fell out of his hand when placed in his grip. With shallow breathing, the child’s eyes darted between his mother and Aramis. He shook his head as tears welled in his eyes.

Aurélie struck her captor’s leg, but the giant laughed and pulled a knife to her throat. A small trickle of blood appeared on her skin. Aurélie froze eyes wide open.

Félicien whimpered. Tears ran down his face, leaving a watermarked trail down his dusty cheek. The child lowered the pistol, but Raymond grabbed his small hands and raised the weapon into position.

Raymond bent close to Félicien's ear. “You see what that filthy Spanish bastard is doing to you and your mother? Do you really want your mother to die because of something like _that_? It's time for you to decide. The life of your mother against the life of this traitor. That can't be too difficult, can it?”

Félicien stiffened. Aramis watched in horror as life disappeared from the child's eyes, leaving only a shell behind.

_My pain is ending here and now._

“Féli! Look at me... please...” he said. Félicien flinched and Aramis caught his gaze. “You'll do what Raymond wants you to do, alright?”

The boy stepped back, but Raymond stopped his recoil. “No, no… I… I can’t...”

Aramis shook his head. “Listen, it's very simple. Just squeeze the little lever and your maman is saved. You can do it.”

Féli’s breathing increased. “But it's gonna hurt you if I shoot you.”

Aramis smiled. “No, it won't. I promise you. You have to be brave now, like your papa was. He was a musketeer and you're his son.”

Aramis never thought he'd get the chance to correct history. His death might not bring Saniel back, but it would make up for the mistake of his own survival. Unlike in Savoy, Aramis could now influence fate and make sure that this time the right one would survive. Twenty two graves outside the garrison, but Saniel's legacy coming to life would remain.

Aramis put all his love and his last bit of life force into his gaze. “Everything will be fine, Féli... you just have to pull the trigger now...”

Féli swallowed, his hands trembled. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…”

A loud bang cracked the air, its melancholy echo dissipating slowly until it was swallowed by the distant thunder as the rain and storm moved on to different pastures.


	7. Chapter 07

The force of the bullet's impact toppled Aramis back like a falling tree.

The force of the gun's recoil threw Féli backwards and he slumped like a broken reed.

The force of a mother’s love hit Aurélie in the heart as she dashed to her child.

But Raymond caught her and she stared into the eyes of madness. She would have given anything to slaughter this man like a pig. Every fiber in her cried for her son who was only a step away and yet unreachable. The evil holding her was overpowering.

Raymond grabbed Aurélie's chin and turned her head towards Aramis. “That's what happens to people who stand up against me. They die.”

Seeing the victims of Raymond’s atrocious deeds, a broken child and a dead friend, she wriggled out of Raymond's grip with her bound hands, not resigning to give up and she lashed out at Raymond. The man laughed and parried her attack, pushing her to the ground as if she were a wet bag.

Raymond’s smirk turned his face hard. “You don’t recognize the grace of God, even when it is standing right in front of you. Have fun digging the grave.” He smiled. “That’s two dead musketeers in one life. What a pity.” He chinned to his men. “Let’s go. We've accomplished our mission, the Spanish spy is dead and the honor of our King is restored. We have saved France.” He spat in the direction of Aramis' lifeless body and, without turning around again, walked back across the bridge to the camp, followed by his men.

Aurélie fell to her knees and pulled Féli towards her. Her hands groped the boy as if the inner horror of his soul had manifested itself somewhere on his little body. Aramis had prevented the worst with his sacrifice, but the dread of the last hours had ended Félicien's childhood forever.

Félicien began to cry. The pitiful sound broke the last barrier inside and Aurélie drowned in the flood of her feelings. She closed her eyes and cried together with her child, clutching each other tightly.

“Maman, Maman...”

Nudged by the insistent voice, Aurélie blinked herself free from the vortex of her emotions. “I am so sorry, my boy! I'm so sorry... I... I...”

“Maman, Aramis!”

Aurélie shook her head. “I don't know how I can ever compensate for this, but I promise, I'll...”

Félicien slipped off her embrace. “Maman, listen to me. Aramis, we have to help Aramis!”

Aurélie swallowed. _Two dead Musketeers in one life..._ She sank in as if someone had just put the blame of the world on her. _Had my son turned into a murderer?_ Aramis had laid down his life to prevent Féli from killing his own mother and the image of him showing Féli the way to his own death with a smile had been etched in her heart forever. Aurélie faced her son. “My darling, Aramis is dead, there's nothing more we can do for him.”

Furrowing his brows, Féli stamped. “No, Maman. No!” The boy grabbed Aurélie's hand. “Come on, get up, we have to help him... come on...”

Aurélie forced herself to look at Aramis. In the faint twilight of the evening, she saw the musketeer lying on his belly, eyes closed and face pale.

Aurélie rose.

Hand in hand they approached the beaten man. Aurélie signaled Féli to stay back and knelt down next to Aramis. She couldn't see if he was breathing. Placing her hand on his cold neck, Aurélie's heart pounded in her chest as she searched for what was probably not there. Nothing. No life.

Aurélie turned to Féli and her voice cracked. “I'm sorry, he's dead.”

Félicien surveyed Aramis with narrowed eyes, then dashed to Aramis’ other side and dropped to his knees. His little hands palpated Aramis back as they shook his lifeless body. “No! Maman! There...there! I can see it, he's breathing, hurry, Maman...”

Aurélie's cheeks flushed with heat. _Could it really be...?_ She pressed her trembling hand, now almost as cold as Aramis skin, against his neck. She took an anxious breath. Another one. And another.

“My goodness, Féli, you're right! I feel his pulse... he's alive!” She breathed a sigh of relief. “Hold on, Aramis, please, just hold on.”

Aurélie couldn't spot the distinctive bloodstain on his back from an exit wound. “Féli, help me twist him around. That's it, turn his head... There we go.”

They rolled the musketeer's lax body on his back. Even in the twilight she noted the extent of his injuries. The blood-soaked left side, the battered face, the laceration on his temple and the shiny fresh blood on his shoulder. She took Aramis’ hand in hers and discovered the small gaping hole. “Heaven, what has that evil bastard done to you?”

She placed his hand back on the ground, then tore off several lengths of fabric from her under skirts and folded the largest one to press it onto Aramis' shoulder. “Féli, come to me, hold this, we have to stop the fresh bleeding.”

Aurélie wrapped a longer piece of cloth several times around Aramis' right hand. Her eyes fell on the side wound, and biting her lips, she didn't even dare to imagine what could have caused such an injury. “His shirt has stuck to the wound, we better leave it as it is and take care of it later before it starts bleeding again. I can barely see anything at all in this darkness, we have to get him out of here.”

Félicien's voice squeaked like a mouse. “Maman, how are we going to do this? He's so big and heavy.”

Aurélie smoothed the loose strands of hair back and let herself sink backwards. “I'll think of something, my darling, I'd better…”

“Can I offer my assistance, Madame?” The controlled voice appeared from nowhere and Aurélie spun around.

Félicien flinched as well, but didn't take his hand off the makeshift compress.

A few meters away on the path at the edge of the clearing, a dark figure sat on a horse. He was covered by a long coat and Aurélie couldn't identify his face under his big hat. He and his beast shone in the dull light of dusk, they must have been caught in the continuing thunderstorm.

The stranger leaned forward. “Madame? Are you having difficulties? I heard a gunshot from this direction and…” The man jumped off the horse and ran straight toward them.

“No! You will not harm him!” Félicien held out his hands to stop the stranger.

Aurélie couldn't prevent the man from grabbing Féli by his upper arms. She clenched her hands into fists and stepped next to his son, ready to defy this man as well.

She raised her hand to strike, but to her surprise the man knelt before Félicien, his strained voice the only sign of a recognizable emotion. 

“I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. This man here is Aramis and he is my friend. I came from Paris and I've been looking for him. Would you allow me to take care of my comrade?”

Aurélie pulled the boy from the man's grip and shoved him behind her. Looking into the musketeer’s face, cold anger radiated against her and she had no idea whether he was telling the truth or just trying to deceive her. Suddenly, behind the outrage in his eyes, she saw a familiar concern and the same deep desire to get to his friend as she had felt a brief moment ago. _He knows Aramis’ name._

Nodding, Aurélie cleared the way. 

Athos rushed forward and fell to the ground next to Aramis, his hands frantically palpating over the bloodstained body. The chill in his voice addressing her made Aurélie shudder. “What has happened here? Who has done this?”

Félicien squirmed free of Aurélie's grip and knelt beside Athos, pressing his small hands against the shreds of Aramis' shoulder once more. “Raymond did this, I swear, I couldn’t help it, please, Raymond did this... but Aramis mustn't die, please..."

Aurélie lowered to the ground. “Shhh...Féli, calm down, nobody is blaming you. This man is a Musketeer and he's gonna help us- as Aramis did.”

Athos' eyes pierced her from under his wet hat. “Aramis helped you against Raymond? I remember the man. I was afraid that the issue wasn’t over yet. Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. The man is completely insane and capable of anything.”

Athos narrowed his browns. “So there is still danger lingering. All that matters right now is that we get Aramis out of here and tend to his wounds. We load him onto my horse and bring him to a safe place. Any ideas where this could be?”

“We can bring him to my tent, but we just can’t heave him onto a horse. His injuries will not allow it and he has already lost far too much blood. I have a small handcart at my tent, I will fetch it and then we…”

“No, who cares about injuries if it’s not safe out here!” said, Athos. He bent forward, lifting Aramis' torso to reach under his arm. “Time is pressing, are you coming?”

Aurélie didn’t move.

“Please.”

Aurélie sighed and rolled her eyes, but grabbed Aramis from the other side none-the-less. Together, she and Athos pulled Aramis up and hoisted him onto the horse. Aurélie sent Féli ahead to rekindle the fire, boil fresh water in the kettle, and top off any lamps he could find with enough tallow. The boy had completed his task well, the tent was lit up when Aurélie and Athos arrived with Aramis, so Aurélie sent Féli to his sleeping place. A short time later, Aramis lay on the large table in the middle of her tent. 

All the movement and commotion seemed to awaken Aramis. His closed eyelids fluttered and he shifted back and forth. 

Aurélie put her hand on his sweaty hairline. “Shhhh... stay calm, everything is fine, you are safe.” 

Aramis moaned softly and went limp again. Aurélie waited a beat and then scanned the bloody mess comprising his body. There was so much blood, and with each new wound she detected, the measure of her inner despair increased.

“Is there a doctor present in the camp?” asked Athos, unbuckling his pauldron and taking off his leather doublet.

Aurélie rubbed her neck in frustration and looked around her dismal surroundings. “What do you think?”

Grunting, Athos rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

Aurélie felt sorry for her harsh remark. He didn't deserve that tone. “I have acquired certain healing skills over the years...” she said.

Athos stepped to the other side of the table and his voice had a pressing undertone that didn't really help right now. “Well, go ahead…”

Placing her hand on her chest, Aurélie felt her heart hammering.

“What’s the matter? What are you waiting for?”

“Actually...I am not familiar with such injuries,” Aurélie stuttered. “I can help women in pregnancy or prepare fever potions or make ointments for rashes. I once sewed up a laceration, but this,” she gestured over Aramis' bloody body, “this is beyond my capabilities. I don't even know where to begin.”

The musketeer kept a straight face. “Hmmm, I see. So you have no clue.”

Aurélie snorted and her eyes widened. “Pardon me? I just thought that...” 

“Don't think, act. Step aside, I'll take it from here. Now, are there any scissors?”

Aurélie pressed her lips into a thin line, but finally nodded and rummaged around in her medicine bag. “Hold on a moment, I will dip all instruments in hot water. The old barber from whom I got the bag had given me this advice to reduce the risk of inflammation.”

Athos steel blue eyes caught her gaze as he reached out for the scissors. “Well, I guess we'll soon find out if this barber was right in his assessment, won't we?”

_Are you always this cold?_ Aurélie decided to ignore Athos’ causticity. 

Aramis flinched with a distorted face every time the back of the scissors touched his bruises and lacerations. But watching Athos concentrating in slicing the tattered shirt and pick off the bloodstained parts despite the silent groans of Aramis, she had to admit that the man knew what he was doing and Aurélie was content with letting him work and whispering reassuring words to Aramis.

When Athos reached the side wound, he paused. “I will leave the fabric on the wound until we can take care of it, I can't see any fresh bleeding right now. Aramis is coming around, I have to get the bullet out of him. His breathing isn't regular and he is sweating more and more heavily.”

Placing her hand on Aramis upper arm, Aurélie was startled by the clamminess and cold of his skin. “You are right. Féli, hand Athos the long tweezers.”

Féli, crouched like an invisible guest in his sleeping bag, jumped up and cluttered through the instruments in the water bowl. “This one?... No?... This one?... Or this one?”

Aurélie grabbed the tweezers, handed them to Athos, and then gestured to the boy to slip off again. 

Athos nodded and used his fingers to inspect the gunshot residue on the edge of the wound, exerting pressure to stretch the small hole. Aramis moaned and his silent mussitations aligned to the rhythm of his slight body movements.

Grabbing Aramis other shoulder, Athos forced his friend down. “Aramis, you have to hold still or it won't work. Keep still.”

Athos’ harsh voice startled Aurélie, but Aramis reacted and stopped moving. Athos pushed the tweezers into Aramis’ flesh. Aramis trembled and stiffened but held still as Aurélie stroked his muddled hair.

“Hold on, it’s almost done,” whispered Aurélie, swallowing her rising nausea.

Athos pushed the instrument deeper into Aramis’ shoulder. Aramis rattled and the rapid raising and lowering of his chest stopped.

_It’s now or never, please, don’t lose the bullet_. Aurélie let all air escape from her lungs as Athos yanked the bullet out of Aramis' body with a smacking sound.

The dropping of the tweezers and bullet into the water bowl caused a metallic clang. Athos pressed a piece of cloth onto the bleeding hole and Aurélie was surprised by his soft voice. “You have done well, my friend. I will sew it in a moment, but first I have to rinse it, you know how it goes. And soon we shall return to the garrison.”

Aurélie caught Aramis’s painful gaze. Out of maternal impulse, she stroked Aramis' cheek, as she always did when she was comforting Féli. Aramis twisted the corner of his mouth as if to say something and closed his eyes. Aurélie hurt to see how helpless and small the musketeer appeared.

Athos' voice broke through her compassion to goad her on like cattle. “Do you have some alcohol for the rinse? Where is the sewing kit?”

Aurélie thought about taking a swipe at him, but seeing the storm of emotions raging in the man's eyes despite his stoic expression, she swallowed her anger. “Needle and thread are in the medicine bag, I'll get the grain brandy.”

A few moments later the needle in Athos' steady hand pierced Aramis' irritated skin and Aurélie was glad that it was not her who caused Aramis further pain. Aramis flinched, but otherwise didn't move as Athos poured more clear brandy over the small hole to clean it. He took a quick sip for himself before meticulously stitching the wound closed.

When he finished, Athos took another sip of the brandy and offered Aurélie the bottle. 

_He's not serious is he?_ Aurélie snorted and crinkled her nose. Athos shrugged his shoulders and turned around to find a place for the alcohol.

Pressing her lips together into a thin line, Aurélie grabbed the bottle. Their glances met and at that moment Aurélie realized that they were together in the middle of a battle, soldiers in service of a common cause, fighting for the wellbeing of their friend. 

Aurélie cracked a smile. “To hell with it." The brandy burned in her throat and down its way into her stomach, but the warmth that spread in her body was worth it. “Aren’t we a fabulous pair?”

The corner of Athos' mouth twitched and he nodded. “We'll take care of that side wound now. I need cloth soaked in warm water and a sharp knife.”

It didn't take long until Athos had removed the blood-encrusted parts of the shirt from the wound. Due to Aramis’ tremor and clenched jaw, Aurélie could tell how hard Aramis was struggling through the pain. Dabbing the sweat from Aramis' skin, she took his hand, which he squeezed tightly. 

Athos examined the gaping wound, a small trickle of fresh blood dripping from it, and placed his hand on Aramis' forehead. His fond look told Aurélie everything about their tight bond and she wondered if Saniel had experienced the same. It gave her some kind of relief to believe that the father of her son had died among those that had cared for him.

“Brace yourself,” Athos whispered to Aramis.

Aramis sighed and Athos put a leather strap, which he had probably found in the barber’s bag, between Aramis’ teeth, which he accepted without hesitation.

_My goodness, it's really not the first time they have done this,_ thought Aurélie. She visualized a soldier's life was always filled with blood and pain, and determined Féli should never share that fate.

With one quick movement, Athos poured more alcohol into the wound. Aramis screamed into the gag and reared up. Athos pressed him back onto the table, and for Aurélie it felt like an eternity until Aramis stopped moaning and trembling. Then realizing what was about to come, she immediately took the gag out of Aramis’ mouth. “Athos quick, help me turn him sideways!”

Together they rolled Aramis to the edge of the table, just as he emptied the contents of his stomach. 

Between painful groans, Aramis heaved up clotted blood until his stomach was empty. He sighed, swallowed, and remained lying on his side. Aurélie dabbed dark blood and bile from the corners of his mouth while their eyes met.

Suppressed tears shone in Aramis dark eyes and his mouth formed a toneless thank you. His desperate expression touched Aurélie in the core of her heart. “Don't... I have _you_ to thank. Please just hold on. We'll get through this together.”

Aramis' eyebrow twitched and he closed his eyes. But Aurélie had seen the glint of life, and for the first time during this disastrous evening she believed that they could influence the outcome of the story in some way. Aurélie picked up the tattered shirt and spread it over the mess on the floor. “As far as I can tell, it was old blood he vomited. He must have swallowed a lot of it when Raymond... when Raymond...”

Growling, Athos stood like a Sphinx, never retrieving his hand from Aramis. “We will deal with that issue later, we have to sew the wound and…”

Aurélie tightened. “No, we have to talk about how to proceed first. Aramis is at his limits, I really can't imagine how he can come through any other procedures without further agony. We should...”

Shots and screams echoed across the camp. Félicien jumped up and fled to Aurélie, clinging to her skirt. 

Aramis opened his eyes and tensed, his hand sliding toward non-existent weapons at his side. Leaning on his elbow, he raised up with a groan.

Athos drew his rapier, stepped toward the tent’s opening. “Stay here, I'll check what's going on...”

The canvas flaps of the tent flew open, inviting in the sounds of commotion outside in the camp.

Aurélie pushed Félicien behind her and grabbed the scissors. “Don't be afraid, I won't let someone do any harm.”

A tall, angered man stepped inside and Félicien cried out. Aurélie raised the scissors further up and stretched her hand forward.

Athos' eyes turned hard as steel. “Raymond.”


	8. Chapter 08

Aramis met Raymond’s gaze. His heart skipped a beat, believing that in a moment it would never beat again.

“I'm going to kill you once and for all...” sneered Raymond.

Athos knocked the pistol out of Raymond's hand with his foot, then butted Raymond in the face with the hilt of his sword. 

Raymond roared and staggered back into the opening of the tent, flailing into the canvas flaps. Athos drew nearer, his rapier thrust out ready to unleash a calculated attack. But Raymond hurled the canvas at him and turned around, fleeing back outside.

“Aramis!” cried Athos, as he chased after Raymond.

Aramis knew that his friend was relying on him to have his back. Battle readiness whipped Aramis into shape, and despite the omnipresent pain consuming his senses, his will drove him off the table. Buzzing waves of heat made him shiver, and Aramis struggled to push back the rapidly rising nausea. With trembling hands he grabbed a piece of bandage and pressed it onto his side wound while shoving Aurélie and Féli aside with his other hand.

Aramis' voice crunched like his clenched teeth. “Stay where you are.”

Aurélie gasped. “Aramis, no, your condition doesn’t allow...”

“Do what I ask... please…”

Aurélie flinched and Féli stared at him with mouth open, but Aramis felt the soldier's ruthlessness take command and he opened up to its guidance without hesitation. 

Riding roughshod over Aurélie and Féli’s sensitivities wasn’t foremost on Aramis’ mind, there were more important issues at hand, like protecting them against Raymond and backing up Athos. Aramis limped towards the entrance of the tent. Black dots danced before his eyes and merged with the darkness of the night as he stepped outside.

The camp was in turmoil. Torches lit up the darkness, illuminating people as they ran like flushed birds through the rows of tents. He heard the clashing of swords, the screams of warmings and isolated shots.

“Where are you, you bloody scumbag? Where are you?”

Aramis' eyes whipped between the commotion, but he had difficulty recognizing Raymond in the chaos. He blinked, when suddenly a familiar figure stood out of the dark monotony. Athos.

Athos gaze caught Aramis’, and a mischievous grin appeared on his face as he tossed his pistol to Aramis. “Are you ready?”

Aramis answered his grin. “As ready as I can be.”

Aramis caught the weapon with his right hand, almost dropping it as he could barely spread his curved fingers due to the nail wound. With a guttural tone he forced his hand to grasp it.

Aramis felt Athos' stare bore into him, and in return, Aramis hardened his gaze. “Just so you know… I’m taking the last shot.”

It was not a question, it was fact. This was not about revenge on the man who had inflicted all this on him. It was about eradicating the threat to the boy and his mother. It was about what Aramis was willing to do to help and protect them. Killing Raymond was about nothing less than life itself.

They moved forward into the foray. Aramis' heart hammered blood and pain through his body and cold sweat dripped into his eyes, but he blocked his agony into insignificance. Step by step, he followed Athos as he slid through the winding rows of tents, straight toward the loudest commotion. At the wide common area they finally found what they had been looking for.

The villagers had Raymond and his goons surrounded.

The culprits of the attack on the camp behaved like rabid dogs, flailing their machetes and fashions in earnest at the encroaching villagers until they realized their defeat. Raymond’s men managed to flee as if they weren't important to the villagers, leaving Raymond alone and unprotected from the mob. But he continued to fight, jab back at his captors like a trapped animal.

A small, thin man with pale skin and a bandaged hand jumped onto a tree stump holding a torch over his head, and shouted at the crowd. “Stop!”

When he had the crowd’s full attention, he continued as he stared at Raymond. “Now you will pay for everything, you filthy swine! Now it's your turn to burn! Come on, my friends, get this mad rat!”

As Athos and Aramis neared the perimeter of the commotion, Athos signaled Aramis to stop. Aramis watched as Athos’ experienced eyes searched for a breach in the crowd in order to make his move. 

Like a hunting wolf, Athos suddenly lept like a cannonball into the turmoil when he found his opportunity. Athos charged at Raymond and dragged him out of the turmoil, despite the protests of the angered villagers.

But they eventually cleared a path for him, realizing almost instantly based on the sneer and burning hatred in Athos’ eyes, that Raymond was not being rescued, but rather, taken to his punishment.

Raymond fought back as he was pulled, but Athos contained his thrashing and swinging fists as easily as a mother contained their wayward charge. At the perimeter of the crowd, Athos shoved Raymond toward Aramis like a gift.

Aramis inhaled deeply, tired to aim his pistol. 

His hand shook and the pistol refused to become one with him. After another breath, pure willpower stabilized his posture, and he was able to aim the barrel of his pistol center mass in Raymond’s chest… where a heart usually beat. 

Aramis released his breath, his finger just giving the trigger the first impulse, when suddenly a bang echoed through him and Raymond slumped like a stone.

Aramis spun around and his blood dropped into his feet. Félicien stood between the tents with a smoking gun. The boy's face reflected the expression which Aramis knew only too well. There was no child in front of him who had taken revenge on his tormentor or who in his naivety hadn't been aware of what he had just done. In front of him stood a man in the shape of a child who had decided to amend injustice and protect what was important to him by all means. In front of him stood a child who had followed in a soldier's footsteps.

Aurélie turned around the tent and stood rooted to the spot next to her son, hands covering her mouth. Her chest rose and fell, and her eyes reflected the same horror that gripped Aramis. 

The pistol fell from Aramis’ hand. “Féli, no…”

He limped to Féli and dropped next to him. The pain of his body and the agony of his soul marauded through his system. Again blood flowed from his gaping side wound, the shreds of cloth protecting it long lost. Holding eye contact with the boy, Aramis gently took the pistol from Félicien’s hand.

Féli swallowed. “Did I do it right? Just pull the trigger, you said...”

Aramis smoothed a strand of hair from the child's face. “Yes, you did right. Féli, I...”

“Are you mad at me? Will you dismiss me now?” whispered Féli in a trembling voice.

“No, I won't dismiss you. Never. You did the right thing at the right time. Sometime later in your life you will reflect on this moment and understand why I am so proud of you. You're the bravest child I know, and nothing is more important than you are alright right now.”

Féli sobbed and flung his arms around Aramis' neck. Aramis embraced the child and closed his eyes as the image of Féli with the smoking gun in his hand appeared without being asked. It had buried its cruel presence deep into his soul. Félicien had taken the path of a soldier and Aramis knew that at the end there would be a grave awaiting.

_How can I protect you from the world?_

Pressing the boy tighter, the sweet scent of the childlike hair reached Aramis' nostrils and while the world stood still in the moment of their intimacy, he came to a conclusion.

Aramis held the boy's trembling shoulders with both hands. “Féli, I will stay with you and your Maman. I will quit my commission so that I can always take care of you. We will leave this whole madness behind and I will teach you everything I know. I will help you forge a good life and I will be there to protect that life.”

Féli's eyes widened and they beamed like the sun. “You will stay with us? Really?”

Aramis nodded as he absorbed the child's brightness. A deep warmth radiated from the center of his own heart through his body and mind, easing his pain and conscience. Relief and joy of finally having made the right decision glommed more and more brightly and consumed his senses. Aramis became dizzy and for the first time, he wasn't consumed by the darkness of oblivion but by the light of family.

~

By early dawn, when Aramis regained consciousness after a fitful sleep, the glistening light of joy and love had disappeared. Only its resonance echoed through his hazy senses, but it was enough to bring a smile to his lips and lighten his heart. His heavy limbs pulled him down and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. Dull pain throbbed to the rhythm of his heartbeat but it lacked the edge so pronounced earlier, his thoughts were hazy, slow, and he found it difficult to concentrate.

_They must have given me something..._

Aramis felt someone was present. Calm breath, creaking leather and a scent of brandy told him that his brother was keeping watch at his side.

Aramis licked his dry lips and forced his eyelids to open. It was dark in the tent except for a weak lamp. He lay again on the hard tabletop, his head resting on something soft. His lower abdomen was firmly bandaged, only a small red spot testified to the wound. The sour smell of vinegar on his skin told Aramis that Aurélie had probably washed him off with her tincture and he was glad that he had neither experienced this procedure nor the sewing of the side wound. Aramis noticed that the fingers of his right hand had been spread under the dressing with small sticks. So Athos had remembered how to treat wounds of this kind. 

_Athos_.

The unexpected appearance of his friend the other day seemed like a miracle that Aramis didn't want to question further. Gratitude flooded through him as their eyes met. _Thank god you showed up..._

Suddenly, a thought entered Aramis’ mind. “Féli! Where is Félicien? How is he? What...?”

Athos, who was sitting next to him on a stool and holding a bottle in his hand, twisted his mouth into a vague smile. “Stay calm, all is well. Don't make so much noise, they're both asleep back there.” He nodded to the corner of the tent, then took a sip from his bottle before offering it to Aramis.

Aramis relaxed and nodded. The wheat brandy burned over the sore spots in his mouth, but Aramis wouldn't have missed the warm feeling that spread down from his throat.

Athos took the bottle away from him and leaned forward. “I think you want this back.” He placed Aramis’ rosary on his chest, helping Aramis to slip into it.

Aramis answered the fond look of his friend. He knew Athos' attitude towards the rosary and yet his friend was willing to change his spots for Aramis’ sake.

“How are you?” Athos asked with a low voice.

“I'm f…” Aramis bit his lip. “It hurts like hell.”

Athos raised his brows. “Hmmhmm, I can imagine.” He scrutinized Aramis' battered body and clicked his tongue. “How do you always manage to make trouble for yourself even with the simplest tasks?”

Aramis shrugged. “You told me to stay and that it would do me good to help.”

“I said help, not fight... even though the two words sound very similar…. Actually, they don’t sound alike at all.”

Aramis sighed. “Nothing is ever easy and believe me, the last thing I wanted was a fight... or to fail.”

“You didn't fail, what makes you think you did?” Athos stroked his beard. “Aurélie told me everything, but even you are not invincible. You took a hell of a risk last night, too much for my taste, and I'm not really sure if bravery or stupidity led you to this point. But at the end of the day only one thing matters: You helped the boy and his mother.”

_Helped_. Bitter feelings of guilt crept through Aramis and suppressed the feeling of lightness and warmth he had felt when thinking of Félicien. 

After Emilie’s departure, Aramis had stayed with the camp of displaced villagers with the hope of relieving his feelings of guilt and gaining a clear conscience by helping the people make a new beginning. Instead, out of sheer hubris, Aramis had surrendered himself to madness in the shape of a man; worse, he had surrendered Félicien and Aurélie to this madness. _I hadn't helped them. On the contrary, I didn’t help anyone._

“Don't do that,” Athos said softly.

Aramis looked Athos in the eye. “Don't do what?”

“Don't blame yourself for what happened. You are not responsible for the fanatical acts of a fanatical man and you were alone. However, together we took care of Raymond and locked him in the pigsty. The boy only grazed him...”

“So you mean I'm not responsible for a seven-year-old shooting a person twice in one day with a pistol?” hissed Aramis. “It was, after all, my duty to hunt Raymond down and I should have seen it coming. I should have prevented Féli from ever taking a weapon in hand and firing it. I am responsible for everything. If I had done my part correctly, the boy would never have fallen into this situation. I failed to protect him”

Athos put his hand on Aramis' arm and shook his head. “No, my friend, you are wrong. You were willing to sacrifice your life to save a child's innocence and help provide him a life that was denied to his father. You meant well.”

“The opposite of well is well meant.” 

Deep sadness joined Aramis' feelings of guilt and he glanced at the family sleeping in the corner. Snuggled together they gave each other warmth and comfort and it seemed as if their unconditional love could light up the dark room like a halo, whose incandescence reached him as well.

_I've never fled from complications in my life. How could I live with myself if I abandon my duty to help them?_

Aramis sighed. “And well meant is not enough. I can only help and protect Féli and Aurélie if I am willing to take on true responsibility for them. Athos, at last there is some meaning to the fact that I survived Savoy and I see it clearly now. When Féli shot me, I thought my death would save him and I would join my fallen comrades, but now I am sure that it is my life that will save him. But not my life as a musketeer, not my life as a soldier. If I really want to help him, I must leave all that behind me.” Aramis waited a beat before continuing. “I will resign my commission and stay with Féli and Aurélie.”

Athos' mien gave nothing away, but behind his eyes, Aramis saw the storm of emotion his words unleashed. “And what about your oath to your dauphin? Your duty to your king? Your love to your queen? Aramis, you pledged your loyalty and responsibility to an entire country, and now you will abandon all that to help one child and his mother?”

The harsh words hit Aramis like Raymond's blows, and the pain they caused in his soul added to the pain throbbing through his body. _Pain is lasting_ , he thought to himself, knowing that the pain his decision would bring to his brothers would eventually be over. But being a father for his fallen comrade's son would bring him a joy that would last forever.

Aramis cleared his throat. “You know that I always wanted just one thing: To take care of my s…”

“Don't even think about saying it out loud, you know very well that which must not, cannot be.”

Aramis rested a hand on his forehead. “But that's what it's all about. I’m doomed to want the things I can't have! I will never have the chance to really be there for my... And basically he doesn't need me. He is the future king of France and all the people of the country are at his service, one guard more or less will not be noticed. But Féli will notice whether I'm with him or not. The boy needs me and I know that I need him just as much.”

Athos recoiled and rose. Aramis recognized the anger in his strained voice. “Damn it, Aramis, can't you see it? This is not just about Félicien and his mother. Do you really think they're the only ones who need your protection against someone like Raymond? That maniac out there burned his friend's hand with a torch before he attacked you. Two villagers were killed in the fight because of him, and his men had injured several others. The people here have risked much to protect themselves from the fanaticism of this man who considers himself the protector of the King and saved his subjects from evil. But unlike you, Raymond is not a musketeer serving his king and his people. It is you who has made this oath and taken the commission. And all the people of France deserve your protection and your help as well.”

Aramis felt as if he was under fire from all sides, and every hit evoked not a flood of blood but a flood of images. Suddenly he was able to see what he had refused to see before. He saw the faces of French citizens who had given up their livelihoods to fight what they presumed was the greatest threat to all, the Spanish. He saw weapons lying where tools should have been stored. And he saw the now desperation they all carried because their lives, their dedicated mission and purpose in life, had been torn out from under them. But above all, he saw a man willing to stand up for all of them. 

Aramis was ashamed it had not been himself.

He realized he had been so focused on his own desire for salvation and peace of mind that he had missed the hopes and needs of everyone else in the camp. They had needed an outlet for the anger that had been with them for so long. Aramis should have seen the camp as a fuse waiting to be lit. And consumed by his own self-interests, he let Raymond hold the match.

The good of the many should have outweighed the good of the few. Raymond had seen this, but Aramis had not.

With a groan, but yet confident, Aramis straightened up, accepting the physical pain as penance for his hubris. “You are right, my friend, I have unleashed a monster upon the villagers. It was my return, my selfishness, that provoked Raymond to his deeds and I am to blame for the whole debacle here. But I will not allow Raymond to continue being a threat to Féli... or anyone else in this camp.”

Again rolling off the table with clenched eyes and jaws, Aramis fought his way through the waves of agony that roared through his body. Cold sweat broke out across his skin, and his hand trembled more than he would have liked as he reached for the pistol lying on a small wooden box next to the table.

Athos immediately planted himself in front of him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I am correcting my mistake,” replied Aramis, with authority. “I’m going to save the _whole_ village... I’m going to kill Raymond.”

  


  



	9. Chapter 09

“Have you come tokill me?” Raymond sat crouched in an enclosed pigsty. He was locked in tight with nowhere to go as he glared back at Aramis. “Will you finally show your true colors, you Spanish devil?”

The gray light of dawn disclosed Raymond’s face that was twisted with hate. Aramis stopped in front of the pigsty with a pistol heavy in his hand. Athos had not even tried to stop him when he’d left the tent, though Aramis’ battered body _had_ by refusing it service. But the heat of his anger had fired his mind and had forged the iron of his determination.

Standing a hand's breadth from Raymond, Aramis’ cold voice dripped from his lips. “I have told you before. There are two kinds of moments in life that impact our souls forever. Moments when you make the right decision and moments when you make the wrong one. Now you will learn the consequences of my right decision.”

Raymond snorted. “The only right decision you could have made would have been not to return at all. But you were a sucker for coming back, weren't you? You didn't fulfill your mission. You tried to hide your selfish intentions behind a mask of altruism. You pretended to care about the people around you.” Raymond banged the wooden lattice of the pigsty and made the iron padlock clatter. “But I see through you, I know who you really are. Everything you did, you did for yourself and that’s the reason why you’ve failed. Look at you, even now you are working for your own agenda.” He spat through the bars and slouched back with a smug grin on his face.

The truth of Raymond’s words hurt Aramis like the bite of a viper whose venom ate through his veins into his heart. Raymond couldn't know what had actually led Aramis back to this place, and yet Raymond had understood Aramis' intentions and had skinned them in layers. A feeling grew in Aramis that it wasn't Raymond who had to account for his deeds right now.

“You know nothing about me,” Aramis replied. “How could you? Your cruelty brought nothing but misery to these people. Where Emilie showed love and mercy, you spread hatred and inhumanity; where Emilie created community, you bred discord and strife. You have shaken the people to their foundations and threatened their lives because they didn't believe your madness. I am going to help them by ending you so _all_ the villagers will have a safe life.”

Aramis stepped back. The pains in his body were raging against each other and it cost him massive effort to raise and aim the pistol in his shaky hand.

Raymond's scornful laughter cut through the air. “You think just because you have a pistol in your hand you are helping these people? Youknow nothing, Aramis from the King's Musketeers ... or whatever you call yourself. You are at my mercy and no matter what you do, you cannot win against me. You've already lost and you even don't know it yet. Kill me and unleash war!”

Raymond's malicious expression turned Aramis' stomach into a cold lump. Somewhere in Aramis’ mind a warning stirred, but he couldn't grasp it. He knew that he had to shoot the bastard, could easily shoot the bastard, yet his superiority over his foe felt anything but a victory at the moment. If Aramis didn't kill Raymond, Raymond would forever be a threat to the villagers, especially to Feli and Aurelie. Aramis couldn't, mustn't let that happen.

Shaking off his thoughts, Aramis tried to steady his trembling hand. “Your death will protect those I care for. You will never again be a threat to them or anyone else in this camp.”

“So you really believe that this is all about the villagers?” hissed Raymond. “So much effort on your part, so much blood spilled, and for what? For a child and his mother? For people like Clement or other dumb villagers?”

Bloody images of the last hours flashed unasked like lightning through Aramis' mind and struck him like Raymond’s merciless blows. So much turmoil had already occured. 

Aramis had been willing to sacrifice everything for Feli. And Aramis knew he was partly to blame for what had happened to the villagers by returning and staying to protect Feli and his mother, and now, if he went through with his plan to kill Raymond, he would incur the guilt of killing a murderer without trial in order to protect Feli and all the other people. Was it worth it?

Aramis nodded and stood behind his convictions. “You are right, I have shed enough blood because of your madness, but every single drop has been worth it. And I would do it all again, because I care for all the villagers now and I will not tolerate you continuing to wrong them.”

Raymond clicked his tongue. “You still don’t see it, do you? I am caring for the salvation of all people of France. So yes, kill me. Go on. Do what you think is right and stick to your small-mindedness. You really believe that I'm the only one, don’t you? You really believe that legions are not coming to follow my example? Even in death I will never cease to fulfill my god-given revelation, and I am ready to lay down my life for my faith to serve as an inspiration to all of France."

Aramis flinched and dropped his hand. _This maniac actually wants me to kill him_. _But why?_ Then Aramis suddenly realized Raymond's point. “No, I will not turn you into a martyr.”

“My goodness, you are incapable! You're failing again!” Raymond lifted his chin. “But you have no choice, because I will never stop, do you get me? If you don't kill me, my men will come back and free me. And then I will kill every single person who stands between me and my ambitions for this great nation. And I will start with your little family and their death will be charged to your account.”

“No, you won't.” Aramis raised the pistol again with clenched teeth, realizing that no matter what he decided, Raymond would be proved right. But if he killed Raymond, at least he’d be doing something right. Serving some sort of justice.

Raymond spread his hands as far as the pigsty would allow and offered his chest to Aramis. “Do it now, kill me. You want it, release the killer who you really are. I know you, so show your true face and testify to the evil within you.”

_I must do it..._

Aramis released his breath andcurled a finger around the trigger.

“Aramis.”

The soft voice of Athos roared in Aramis’ ears. Aramis spun around, and in the bright light of dusk Athos stood a few feet away, his steel-blue eyes without reservation and full of brotherhood. Aramis hadn't noticed that Athos must have been standing between the tents watching him the whole time.

_Athos_ … A true Musketeer. Epitome of honor and devotion. 

A smile played on Athos' lips as he approached. “This is not who you are, my friend.”

“No, don't listen to him, kill me, you have no choice,” Raymond yelled.

Aramis laid his free hand against his forehead, as if the gesture could stop him from losing even his last spark of confidence. “But he is right, Athos, I have no choice. I have to kill him, he will never stop spreading his poisonous thoughts, and more villagers will die. I must stop this, I must protect them all. Not just Feli and Aurelis. Justice must be served...”

“You are right, justice must be served.” Athos laid his hand on Aramis’ shoulder. “That is why you must not be a prosecutor, judge and executioner in one. Our duty is to bring Raymond back to Paris, where he will be locked up and a judge or the King himself will decide his fate.”

The heat of embarrassment flushed Aramis' cheeks, the simple presence of his brother reminding him of his essential principles. He lowered his pistol.

Raymond rattled his cage. “No, take revenge, follow your instincts… Kill me… I order you…”

Athos turned Aramis around and gently pulled his head toward him until their foreheads touched. Aramis closed his eyes, calming down his shallow breathing.

Athos’ voice was filled with assurance. “You're not a cold-blooded killer, you are a Musketeer. Which pattern would you set for Felicien or all the other people if you would shoot an unarmed man? Do not let Raymond win by making you act against your nature and your beliefs.”

Aramis inhaled, a flash of insight dawning in him like the first rays of light on the horizon. Raymond had acted in his belief, that Aramis would threaten the lives of the villagers, that he was a traitor, a demon. Raymond had acted in his belief that he would have to destroy evil to save what was important to him. Thus Raymond himself had become a prosecutor, judge and executioner and had decided Aramis' death. And Aramis realized that they were not dissimilar, they were both driven by the same desires and longings. Raymond was like a dark foil of himself and Aramis had been just a tiny movement of his finger away from becoming like him.

Aramis put the pistol in Athos’ waiting hand and approached the lattice. “You can’t command me, because you have no power over me. You were wrong, I am not a Spanish spy, never was and never will be. Your intentions were right, but everything you did to me and the villagers was based on a false assumption. You chose the wrong way, and the wrong means to do so. Hence I won't do what you want now, I won't kill you.”

Raymond stopped raging. Like a beaten animal he squatted, his malicious eyes staring at Aramis. The sight of the defeated man opened a door in Aramis' soul and he realized that they were probably two sides of the same coin. Limping away, Aramis’ gaze fell on the adjacent forest flooded by soft yellow-orange light of the morning which promised not only a new day, but a new life.

Aramis turned one last time to Raymond. “I cannot forgive you for what you have done to me or the villagers. At least not yet. But thank you for showing me the bigger picture. Your life will be wasted away in prison and God alone knows whether your soul will rot in hell or not. But you will live in the awareness that I have gained everything you wanted to deny me: a life, a family, a clear conscience. I will devote all my efforts to help these people and to protect their lives from men like you.”

Raymond yelped and threw himself against the lattice of the pigsty again. "No, come back, you bastard! You can't do that, stay here! Let me out and then we'll fight, you can't just..."

Ignoring the angry tirade, Aramis turned toward the tent of Feli and Aurelie, driven by the desire to discuss with them the first steps into his new life. In his mind he organized the breakup of the camp and vague ideas of new places where the villagers' tents could be replaced by reasonable houses came to his mind. He could take them somewhere to the coast. Feli would love the sea as much as he does and nobody would oppose his plans any longer.

Aramis, lost in thought, crashed into Athos.

The hard expression on his brother's face boded ill. “Tell me one more time: What exactly are you going to do now?”

Aramis swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped back. “I've already told you. I will quit my commission in order to continue helping the villagers by staying to be their guard. Raymond himself has told me, there are plenty of people out there who are stirring up war and abusing people for their own purposes. The villagers need my protection, Feli and Aurelie need my protection. If I stay with them, I can have both: Gaining a family and protecting them all. I can even teach and help them to defend themselves.”

“And what about the other inhabitants of this country? Those who cannot afford a musketeer in their ranks?” Athos replied quietly.

A shiver ran through Aramis and he wondered if Athos couldn't or wouldn't understand. Aramis was offered the opportunity to have everything he had ever wanted. He could devote his soldiering skills to the service of these people and at the same time win a son. A son in every way but blood, a place to where he belongs, a home. _Why do you begrudge me this?_

Anger flared up in Aramis and again he felt the need to justify himself for his desires and needs. “I cannot save everyone!”

“That's right, you can't save everyone.” Athos put his hand on Aramis' arm. “But you are a musketeer. You represent royal law and order in a world of chaos. To be in the service of the King is to be in the service of all the people of France. In the palace, you may indeed be just one guard among many, but out here, in the real world, every man who fights injustice and keeps peace counts.”

Aramis shook off Athos' hand and couldn't prevent the resonance of his anger and frustration from saturating his voice, “But it was my actions as a musketeer that pulled the rug out from under the people's feet. I disenchanted Emilie's charisma, abused her trust and robbed her of her faith. My actions as a musketeer are to blame that the people lost their direction- and my actions as a musketeer are to blame that someone like Raymond was able to fill this gap all too quickly. In the face of this guilt, how can you ask me to continue to serve only one royal child, even if he is...?”

Athos sighed. “If that's your only answer, then Raymond was right. You still can't see it. Everything you are doing for the Dauphin, for your King, implies all the children of this country. Hunting down villains, arresting madmen, intervening against injustice, uncovering conspiracies or simply helping an old woman carry her basket, all these things serve the greater good. You can’t afford to focus your attention only on Felicien, but you are privileged to serve all the children living in France. They all need you, need us, and who, if not us?”

“But...” Aramis ran his hand through his hair, his confidence vanishing into thin air. “It is my duty to support the villagers and help them forge a new identity. After all that has happened and what I owe to Saniel, it' s my responsibility to provide a better life for Aurelie and Feli. For all these people I have displaced.”

“You're wrong.” The softness of Aurlelie’s voice contrasted the incisiveness of her words.

Aramis spun around. Aurelie stood between the tents, her hair unkempt from sleep and holding a cauldron of water in her hand. Her gentle smile soothed Aramis' rage and strife, kindling a deep desire to protect her forever. His chance for a family of his own was just a few steps away. _She understands my intentions and she will tell Athos…_

Aurelie put down the cauldron and approached Aramis. Her face reflected understanding and compassion. "You are not responsible for our lives. We are responsible for ourselves. It was my decision to join Emilie and it is up to me to decide how our life will continue. That Emilie was misguided and that we have lost our community is sad, that's true, but I cannot change the circumstances of our lives. Bad things happen and will always happen. But I can decide how to deal with them. It's not your task to undertake this for me, but it's your task to level the playing field for us. That's why you must not quit your duties as a musketeer."

Aramis flinched. For the second time Aurelie had rejected him. “Is it me? Have I done something to make you doubt me? Have I fought too little for you?  If so, then me wearing this pauldron is unjustified..If, after all, I still haven't convinced you of my devotion and loyalty, then…”

Aurelie opened her mouth, but Athos cut her off. “Our pauldron is a symbol of power and strength and nobody deserves to wear it more than you. Your musketeer skills and abilities advances the world. Our work in the name of the King ensures that children like Felicien can grow up safe and secure throughout France. This is what our motto implies at its core: One for all and all for one. And you know that.”

Groaning, Aramis writhed. The truth of Athos and Aurelie's words flooded him like the pain of his body and hurt him more. His breath accelerated and the world around him spun. All his desires and hopes for a family and a son, but also his needs for redemption and forgiveness were put in an invisible balance. But Aramis realized that Athos and Aurelie were right. His oath applied to all people of France, who needed his protection and devotion so he mustn't deprive them of his services. 

Nevertheless, deep sorrow ripped at every fiber of his being and tore Aramis in two. _No victory comes without a price._ Victory was the greater good and the price he had to pay, nothing less than to give up everything he had ever longed for.

Aramis sighed. “Then this is my way, isn't it? I am a musketeer and I have sworn my oath before God and the King. My life is not mine, but belongs to the people of my country.”

Aurelie took Aramis' hand. “Everything you are doing as a musketeer, you are doing for us. You will always keep us in mind and in return we will live in the knowledge that you are out there, giving everything to make the world a safe place worth living in. This is what Saniel has always sought for and you preserve his memory by doing what he is no longer capable of.”

Aramis nodded. It was a scant consolation for now, but it had to be enough. Pain was temporary, but the awareness of living his life in the light of the greater good and in accordance with his principles would remain forever. He looked into Athos' eyes and saw nothing but pride and sympathy. The strong presence of his friend filled Aramis, and again the bond of their brotherhood had shown him the way back toward his destiny like a lighthouse in one of the most severe storms of his life. It was not what Aramis wanted. It was not what Aramis felt. But it was what Aramis would do, because his true nature demanded it of him.

As there was no longer resistance or anger in him, the throbbing pain of his injuries crept back into his mind and robbed Aramis of all his strength. He leaned against the nearest canvas with his hand pressed to his side, addressing Athos with a raspy voice. “Then let's go home then.”

“Liar!”

Felicien stood between the tents with trembling lips and tears in his eyes.

Aramis didn't know how much of their conversation the boy had heard, but judging by the desperate look on his face, he must have been following it for a while. “Feli, I... let me explain…”

“No! You promised! You're a liar, I hate you!” Feli yelled and stormed off.

Aurelie moved to go after her son,but Aramis grabbed her arm. “No, let me do it, I have to talk to him... please,” he said.

Aurelie's gaze darted between Aramis and Athos. Finally, she nodded, “Settle it with him, he has held out such high hopes. I'm going to...” Aurelie shrugged her shoulders. “...make breakfast or something. You know where to find him?”

“Yes, I know.” Aramis waited until Aurelie had disappeared behind the tents before turning to Athos. “I would need your help, _mon ami_ , I don't think I'll make it to the old oak tree on my own.”

Athos raised a brow. “Who'd thought I'd live to see the day... Aramis admitting he needs help.”

“Shut up, are you helping me or not?”

Smirking, Athos put Aramis’ arm around his shoulder and clasped his other hand firmly around Aramis' waist. “You're hot as an oven, you have a fever. I know you're in pain, do you really think it's a good idea to go after the boy?”

Aramis leaned his weight on Athos' shoulder. “I have to, I owe Feli an apology and at least an explanation.”

Together they made their way out to the old oak. Each step took a large amount of effort, and Aramis’ exhaustion danced in pas de deux with his pain. Repeatedly, they had to stop so Aramis could gasp for air. When the mighty tree finally came into view, Aramis was soaked in sweat. “From here, I can make it on my own.”

“If you say so.” Athos tilted his head. “I'll be waiting for you at the bridge.”

Aramis nodded, and limped towards the tree. The world spun and he swallowed the bitter taste of nausea as he slumped to the ground with his back pressed against the tree trunk. Putting his head against the hard bark, Aramis closed his eyes and hoped he would regain his composure.

“Feli, you have to come down, I can't climb up anymore.” The soft morning wind cooled Aramis' wet forehead and brought him some relief. Nothing stirred. “Feli, please, let's talk…”

A clicking and a quiet sob revealed to Aramis that the boy was there and that sufficed him for now. Exhaustion fell upon him like a heavy blanket and he lacked the strength to open his eyelids. Chirping birds, buzzing insects and the sweet smell of the harvested wheat and lavender fields drove Aramis' thoughts and senses into the warm summer morning. The bountiful life around him pulsated and embraced him, touching his soul and giving him a feeling of lightness.

Aramis felt a hand on his arm. He startled and opened his eyes. He must have passed out for a moment, because he hadn't noticed Felicien climbing down from the tree.

The boy sat in front of him with crossed legs, his chin resting in one hand. “Does it hurt much?”

”It hurts like hell.”

A smile appeared on Feli’s mouth. “You see, it's not so hard at all. You don't have to lie.” He waited a beat and his brow shrunk. “So why did you lie to me anyway?”

Aramis sighed. _What should I tell a child when I hardly understand it by myself?_ “It's complicated.”

"What's so complicated? Either you promise something or you don't promise it. You hurt my feelings." Feli crossed his hands, pushing his lower lip forward. 

Aramis struggled to accept the child's bluntness. Feli made no secret of his grief and radiated his disappointment about Aramis' conduct without holding back. Aramis' throat tightened and the stab in his heart masked all the other pain.

Aramis opened his arms. “I'm so sorry, Feli, I'm sorry. Can you forgive me for speaking out of turn? It’s a promise I can not keep,” he stammered as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

Pressing his lips together, Feli stared at Aramis with trembling nostrils. Their eyes locked and a heartbeat later Feli threw himself into Aramis' arms. “Please, you mustn't go, please stay with me...”

Aramis groaned, the boy couldn't or didn't want to show consideration for his maltreated body. But he embraced the sobbing child and held him like a precious treasure, feeling the moisture of Felicien's tears on his chest.

“Please, Aramis, don't go...” Feli whined. “Why can't you stay with me? I need a father and you need a son...”

The confidence of Aramis' decision was wiped out by Felis' pleas like a raiding patrol by a superior force, and Aramis growled through clenched teeth. Felicien was right, he wanted a son, he wanted a family, he wanted the feeling of redemption. And here he sat, holding all his possible wants in his arms, just a heartbeat away.

_Unfortunately, what I want isn’t what I need_.

Aramis freed himself from Felis' embrace so he was able to look him in the eye. After clearing his throat, he said, “You are right. There is nothing I am more desperate for than staying with you. But I can't. I swore my oath to my King and all the children of this country long ago. I deceived myself with false hope thinking that I could be there for you and your maman. But I was wrong. My work is not done yet, neither are my missions finished. I am a Musketeer and I have to serve and help _all_ people in France. Like your papa did.”

A tear dropped down Feli’s cheek, and he kneaded his lower lip with his teeth. “That's mean. I was so happy to finally have a papa and now I'm all alone.”

Caressing Feli's hair, Aramis smiled. “I know I have disappointed you. But it's not true that you are all alone. You have your maman and Agatha and…”

Following an inner impulse, Aramis slipped off his rosary. Pointing Feli to bend forward, he placed it around the boy's neck. “This is the most precious thing I own. It beats with the heart of my son and the woman I love.” He touched the blue cross with love. “That's why my heart beats inside it, too. All that I am and all that my life signifies\- now it lies on your heart. It should remind you that I am always close to you and that you will never really be alone.”

With big eyes, Feli rose and touched the precious stones, feeling the delicate contours of the cross. Beaming, he stood straight and let the chain dangle down his body.

“Well, at the moment your heart is beating on my stomach…” Feli steepled his fingers and suddenly his eyes reflected the wisdom of age. “...but I'll grow into it like into my pants!”

The childlike perspective exhilarated Aramis. “Yes, you will grow into it, lad, just as you will grow into your life and into your heritage. And if you should ever need me, you only have to speak into the cross and I will come. This is magic.”

“It is?”

Aramis smirked. “No, not really. If you ever need me, you'd better send me a letter. It's more reliable than magic.”

“But I can't write yet.”

“Then it's time you learned, isn't it? Your aunt's convent is a wonderful place to learn everything that is important for you right now. Soon you will really be able to write me a letter and I will look for a courier every day.”

Sighing, Feli wiped away the last remains of his tears with the back of his hand. “But when you have done your work and have finished your missions, you'll come and visit me, won't you?”

Aramis took the child's hand and squeezed it. “Yes, then I'll come and visit you, you'll see, it won't be long…”

The roar of thundering hooves alerted Aramis instincts and he pushed Feli behind him into the cover of the tree. Out of the corner of his eye, Aramis saw Athos rising from his place at the bridge. His friend stared into the forest, his hand sliding to his rapier.

A riderless brown horse with long black mane stormed along the path and stopped close to Athos. Aramis relaxed as Athos grabbed the reins and calmed the excited horse with gentle parries.

Felicien jumped out of his cover. “Solitario! He has come back!”

Aramis smiled. “Yes, it seems that everything finds its way back home. Sometimes one has to take a detour, but in the end, each of us knows where we belong.” Aramis stretched out his arm. “And now help an old man to his feet, your maman has made breakfast. We have a lot of work to do…”

  


  


**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Musketeers are property of Alexandre Dumas and BBC One. I only borrowed the characters and the concept of the show for this work of fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.


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